


Liquid Fire (Sex and Blood Remix)

by Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Baz is confused, Baz is not seeing that, Biting, Boyfriends, Declarations Of Love, Dramatic Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fever, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluffy Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow, Fuck Or Die, Gay Simon Snow, Gentle Simon Snow, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Happy Porn, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Inappropriate Humor, Light mention of panic attack, M/M, Making Love, Mating Bond, Mating Rituals, Memory Loss, Mentioned Malcolm Grimm - Freeform, Mentioned Natasha Grimm-Pitch, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Simon, POV First Person, POV Simon Snow, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce Knows, Pining Simon Snow, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Pon Farr, Pretty much everybody knows, Pride and Prejudice References, Protective Simon Snow, Protective Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Remix, Sad Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Simon Snow in Love, Simon Snow’s hero mode, Simon brings Baz food and rats to drain, Simon does yoga as a seduction technique, Simon doesn't know how to wink, Simon reads to Baz, Simon tries to seduce Baz, Simon uses Kiss it better on Baz, Smut, Soft Simon Snow, Soft Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Sour Cherry Scones (Simon Snow), Spells & Enchantments, Suicidal Thoughts, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch in Love, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow in Love, Vampire Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Vampires, Watford Eighth Year, not much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire/pseuds/Sharing_a_room_with_an_open_fire
Summary: [Explicit] 18+ Simon and Baz.”You are sick and there is a simple solution to cure your illness,” I announce as calmly as possible and nod at the book in his hands. I hope he’ll read.Only Baz hasn't made a move yet and I’m forced to state things out loud, (although it's beyond embarrassing.)“It's a coming-of-age thing,” I finally confess.Baz is going to die unless Simon can save him. The question is does Baz want to be saved?A remix of aralias’Sex and Blood.
Relationships: Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Simon Snow/Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 82
Kudos: 219
Collections: Carry On Remix





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aralias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sex and Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19791214) by [aralias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias). 



> Dear aralias,  
>   
> I really hope you will still enjoy my Remix of your story.  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> A very big shout out to my loveliest betas who supported me with this remix: [mybluebucketofsnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybluebucketofsnow/pseuds/mybluebucketofsnow), [Fool of a Book Wyrm (Lafeli85)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeli85/pseuds/Fool%20of%20a%20Book%20Wyrm), [abbynormalj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbynormalj/pseuds/abbynormalj), [Theawkwardbibliophile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theawkwardbibliophile/pseuds/Theawkwardbibliophile), [imhellakitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhellakitty).  
>   
> Everything that could go wrong, did just that. My depression has taken a turn for the worst. I mixed up the dates with another CO event and started on the Remix far too late. I was writing the majority of the fic with a terrible cold and very high fever ( _Definitely noticed the irony_.)  
>   
> The only reason I've even managed to finish on time is that I had my amazing friends with me, every step of the way.  
>   
> Everything from reminding me to breathe to answering my never-ending questions like: ”Does it make sense what I'm thinking?” without me specifying what that might be, exactly.  
>   
> I am a chaotic writer, I change and add on a constant loop.  
>   
> My utmost supportive friends were beta-reading this fic 24/7. That is true love and dedication.  
>   
> Thank you so much, my darlings for helping me, cheering me on, putting so much time into this. It means the world. 💙💙💙💙💙 Thank you!  
>   
> Also enormous gratitude to my other friends for cheering me on.

# SIMON

Baz and I don't take showers after each other. I always shower in the evening and he does in the morning. That's why he’s always late to breakfast. He's not as hungry as I am. I wonder if it's a vampire thing. 

But then it doesn't seem as if any of the other students eat as much as I do, especially at the beginning of the term. I've even seen some of my classmates roll their eyes at my heavy plate. They will never understand what my life is like. 

I starve each summer. For three month each year I suffer from malnutrition. Of course, I’ll be stuffing my mouth when I finally get access to food. None of them has ever known what starvation is. Baz’s family is very wealthy, most of the Old Families are. However, in truth all the magicians are rich. 

Even those that call themselves poor are well-off in comparison to the Normal world. They all have somewhere to live, a place they call home, and enough food and clothing even without the need to magick anything. With magic, they have even more.

While I'm at Watford I feel like one of them, seeing that here I have a home — mine and Baz’s room. I feel safe here with him. I mean, of course, I don't feel safe _with_ Baz. 

It's only due to our room being the home I’ve ever known, obviously. With or without him, although he _is_ always here. It’s the familiarity and nothing else. What was it that Penny always says about habits? Maybe Baz is my habit.

Baz misheard a question from Miss Possibelf during class today and gave her the wrong answer. He’s been distracted the whole day, not truly paying attention to his surroundings. 

This has never happened before. Baz is the best in our year, he never makes a single mistake or ignores any of the teachers. He’s always interested in every subject and listens intently to each word that is spoken during class. 

That was the first time he did something like that and the realisation makes me feel uneasy.

Can it be that he got distracted because he was plotting against me during the lesson?

This whole thing throws me off completely.

I step into the bathtub agitated and turn on the water. Hopefully, I will feel better after a shower. 

Everything in the en suite smells of cedar and bergamot — Baz’s posh soap. 

The water feels lukewarm and pleasant on my skin. I inhale deeply every scent around the en suite and something starts to settle. My whole body relaxes under the spray. I might as well wank while in this peaceful state.

I start pulling on my cock in the shower and imagining Baz here with me. I mean, _Agatha_. I am definitely fantasizing about her. I always do that, obviously. 

Agatha is my girlfriend and the prettiest girl at school so I have to be into her, and admire everything about her and get turned on by her. It'd be rude not to. 

Nonetheless, if I have to be entirely honest, in the beginning when we just got together it was really troublesome to get a stiffy while thinking about her. 

Fortunately, I managed to solve this problem once and for all. 

Nowadays it's actually extremely easy to get an erection while envisioning Agatha due to a perfect fantasy I've invented a few years back.

I picture her sleeping in her bed at Watford late at night, her hair sprawled on the cushion. It's dark so the hair almost looks black. And when the moon comes out, her skin has this greyish tone to it, I love that so much… it turns me on like nothing else ever does.

Imagining her like that, with black hair, shorter than she has it now, yet not _too short_ and grey skin, preferably turned with her back to me or maybe hissing at me has been my all-time favourite sexual fantasy about her. I come fast and hard and panting every time.

After the shower and a very satisfying wank, I get out of the washroom, already dressed in my pyjama bottoms. Baz and I never change in front of each other. 

The thought of doing that — seeing him naked — sends me in an emotional rollercoaster. It's due to me being extremely envious of his perfect body. I'll never look like him. 

Baz is already sleeping, still wearing his uniform. That's far more suspicious behaviour than even his lack of attention during class. 

He’s always meticulous with everything. Never leaves a single item out of place. Always hangs his uniform on a hanger and spells the wrinkles away as though his life depended on it. Baz is too tidy. 

This isn’t like him. The only reasonable explanation is that he must be plotting something big against me that drained him both physically _and_ emotionally. 

I spend the next few days watching him. And now I can state with complete certainty that there’s something utterly wrong with Baz.

His attention during classes is plummeting at a rapid speed. Mine is as well since I’m watching him, trying to decipher his next move against me.

My initial reaction was to share with Penelope this information from day one. Unfortunately, she tends not to take me seriously when it comes to Baz. 

So instead I’ve waited until I gather enough clues about his schemes before bringing it up with her during breakfast.

“Baz _must_ be very distracted with some kind of new plot, he has even started missing meals,” I’ve been scanning the dining hall for a half an hour now. Still no sign of him. He looks asleep every morning before I leave. It’s probably a ruse.

“Simon, perhaps Basil is having a hard time lately,” is what she tells me. “You could try giving him a reprieve.”

I would laugh at that if I weren't scared Penny might scold me. “He should give _me_ a reprieve.”

Penelope sighs. “He hasn’t bothered you this week has he?”

She is really smart and I have no idea why Penny doesn’t understand what is happening here.

“That is the problem itself! He is scheming something so big he has no time making fun of me.”

Penny gives me an odd look, “Simon, I think—” she pauses, her gaze serious and a bit too intense for me to handle, even through her glasses. I want to look away. “Baz might be struggling more than before.”

I want to ask her how exactly is he the one struggling when it’s me who suffers every day because of him. I don't get the chance before she continues, “Please, just give him a break.”

I know that she doesn’t believe in any of my theories about Baz. Still, speaking on his behalf is excessive even for Penelope. I’m angry with her, but I don’t want to fight. Not with Penny. She’s my only friend. 

Sometimes I worry if I say too much, she’ll leave me… After all, everyone seems to. Agatha breaks up with me on a regular basis as if that was her greatest hobby. The Mage took me in but I never see him, and he still sends me to care homes even though he is my legal guardian. 

That’s how little I am worth to people. I can lose Penelope if I'm not careful. However, I am too angry to have a decent conversation with her.

“I need to go,” I say as I stand up from my seat.

“You haven’t finished breakfast yet.”

“I’m not hungry,” I try to rein my anger in and hope my magic won’t start flaring up. “See you in Political Science.”

* * *

When Baz doesn’t even bother coming to class that day, I lose any composure I had. Did I have any, to begin with? Not when it comes to Baz.

Nonetheless, that is the last straw. Instead of eating lunch, I run to our room to see if he’s there and almost fall down on the way. I need to find out what is happening, what his big scheme is.

Baz is in the shower. I can hear the water running. There are some noises coming from the en suite too. I think… Well, I mean it sounds as if he’s _wanking_. 

Through the years, I’ve accidentally come back a few times while he was showering on the weekends without any sound coming through. 

I stand by the door for a few minutes, listening. Simply so I’ll be sure if that is exactly what he’s doing. It is. Baz is indeed getting himself off. I even hear him cry out, ”Oh yes…”

Does this mean Baz forgot to cast a silencing spell or is he doing this on purpose? Does he know I’m here and is he trying to distract me from his plotting with his elegant, sexy moaning? 

Not that it’s working. It certainly isn’t. I’m not even hard... _or not_ that _hard_. 

# BAZ

Something is wrong with me. My body is too warm and sweaty and not in a pleasant way. It's not the kind of warmth I've been craving for years, preferably by holding Snow in my arms, making love to him and kissing him.

What I'm experiencing is aching pain throughout every part of me. Is this possibly what people (real humans) refer to as feeling under the weather? 

Yes, yes, you are right that one of the few realisations I’ve had about my _condition_ , as Father likes to call my vampirism, is the fact that I never get sick. 

How is this possible then? What changed?

And it's not just my body that is being affected by whatever it is that is happening to me. 

My mind is always sharp and is my closest companion. Except for the times it tortures me with foolish hopes of ever being loved by Simon Snow.

My obsessions notwithstanding, I can always rely on my intellect to help me cope with them, ironically whatever emotional burden my own brain places on me. It’s a symbiotic relationship of sorts. 

What I’m trying to tell you is that there isn’t much to me without my intelligence. That is all I have. Due to this fact, the realisation of my own mind playing tricks is terrifying. 

Another concern is my appearance — I am more pale and grey than usual, for one. (My own reflection unsettles me.) No, don’t give me that look. This isn’t me being vain. I’m concerned. 

Furthermore, I feel feverish, weak and, for the lack of a better word, _horny_. I wanked twice in the shower and it hasn’t even put a dent in my cravings. 

What does help though is the most exquisite hallucination of Snow’s scent. I make sure to enjoy this as thoroughly as possible.

My balance isn’t what it usually is. I still manage just fine by leaning my whole weight against the wall. Inhaling an illusion of Snow’s aroma is quite the incentive to stay on my feet. 

I wrap my hand around my cock again and finger myself with the other, for that extra kick. It’s incredible and my whole body is reacting to this extraordinary pleasure. 

I work myself long and hard until I’m completely spent.

# SIMON

I spend half an hour waiting for him to come out of the washroom, trying not to palm myself. It isn’t easy. It’s all his fault with the scent of his posh soap seeping out and spreading through the room. And those noises. How loud can a person be? 

Maybe it’s not that loud, I wouldn’t know. (The limited experience I had with Agatha hasn't resulted in many noises of pleasure for either of us.) 

When Baz finally comes out, he’s dressed in his pyjamas already and it’s not even noon.

# BAZ

As I exit the en suite I see Snow, all ruffled. Has he run here? His hair is a mess as if he’s been constantly pulling on it.

Simon Snow is standing in our room. Yes, I’m stating the obvious again, don’t you dare judge me for it.

I’ve been wanking earlier and I wasn’t quiet by any means. Surely he heard me if his flustered demeanour is any indication. My feet freeze in place from both shock and horror. 

Coincidentally that does not stop my cock from swelling at the sight of Snow. I want him more than ever. Perhaps not more, I simply have less control over my body at the moment. Mind over matter isn’t working out for me this time. 

“Baz—” he calls after me, not quite meeting my eyes and goes silent, fidgeting with his sleeve, visibly disappearing in thought. 

The sleeve is going to get frayed with all the unnecessary tugging on the fabric. Not that it’s any concern of mine, not that I care about Snow destroying his clothing. 

Is he simply embarrassed to have practically walked in on me or is he disgusted as well, I wonder? However, I’m not sure I want to find out. I exercise the same approach to Snow’s possible disgust to my sexual activities (if one can call it that) as to any information about my vampirism. I prefer not to know.

Any bliss my body felt mere moments ago is gone. I can’t let him know how much he affects me. I sneer and say without magic: “Cat got your tongue?”

Apparently the vile tone and the question I used on Snow brought him back from whatever was haunting his mind. 

“Why aren’t you in class?” He states it as an accusation as if I’ve done it on purpose against him personally. I wouldn’t be surprised if that's what he actually believes, that I would miss class just to mess with him. 

“What is it to you?” I counter his question, even though I should simply ignore him. It’s the only sane thing to do when dealing with Snow. 

Regardless, I can’t bring myself to do that. I lack the willpower to do so. 

All I can concentrate on is how beautiful he looks with his hair dishevelled. How his lips are extra plump today, how I want to trace them with mine. My fangs are itching, trying to pop. It’s a struggle to keep them in place. 

What would happen if I did just that? Kissed him, that is. Would he punch me, I wonder, or perhaps slide his sword right through my undead heart and then run to Wellbelove to erase the memory of me from his mind.

Snow takes a few steps towards me and my whole body trembles craving his touch.

“I know you’re plotting something. Tell me what that is,” he demands. 

_Well, Simon, right this moment all I can think about is how your lips might taste._

“Give it a rest, Snow,” I hiss at him and try to walk towards my bed. “Not everything is about you.” That’s a lie. My whole existence has been about him. He’s the sun I circle around, unable and unwilling to move far enough. 

Even now, he’s too close and my composure is slipping. I’d end up actually kissing him if I’m not careful.

“Stop walking away from me.” Snow stands in my way, raising his voice, angrily. “This conversation isn’t over.”

We’re mere inches apart. I could lean in and our lips would touch. I could do it. Who cares about the consequences? 

I lock my eyes with him, wishing to say something... something that would make him understand except all I register is hatred. And he’s gorgeous even like that. I want to kiss him, my arms reach for him involuntarily.

For a split second, he looks bewildered and that is all that I need to bring me back to reality. Snow doesn’t want me, he never will. He wants me to be a villain he can hate and I will give him just that.

My emotions are running wild and my fangs have popped, yet I’m too agitated to pay them any attention. I’m weak, my body is aching not only from arousal but from pain as well. Regardless, I have enough strength to shove him away from me and bark, ”Mind your own bloody business, Snow.”

There’s no hurt in his eyes since he expected this from me. If I were to kiss him, that would be an unforgivable sin in his eyes, considering he doesn’t want that. He wants a fight. 

Somewhere in the background of my fuzzy mind, I remember about the anathema. It wasn’t triggered though. I suppose I’m not strong enough for that and the push already robbed me of any remaining strength I had left in me.

Without uttering another word I turn to my bed and collapse. 

# SIMON

After confronting Baz without getting any answers, and having his fangs bared at me for a split second (that’s a first and I’m not even sure he himself noticed doing it), I watch him fall asleep right in front of my eyes. The tosser. He probably did it just to spite me.

I don’t really have any other choice than to watch him sleep. After about an hour, I’m starting to feel uneasy. He hasn't moved an inch, it's as if Baz simply collapsed. 

What is wrong with him? Is he sick? I thought vampires can’t get sick. 

The way he looked at me, it was different than usual, he seemed disoriented. That’s not normal for Baz who is always sharp with a hurtful remark at the ready. 

He shoved me away instead of hurting me with his words like he usually does. That’s new and worrisome. I always go for a punch because words betray me. He never does that. 

Perhaps he knows that what he says always hurts more and he’s sadistic enough to do that to me — to try to inflict the most pain. That’s how much he hates me. 

Today though he’s acting differently and he even looks sick. Baz is paler than usual. He’s never been this deep grey before, resembling a vampire more than ever. I’m working on the assumptions that vampires are grey. Baz is and he is one.

A few stray hairs got stuck to his forehead. He probably has a fever. I don’t like this, him possibly being sick.

Baz looks defenceless, lying on his bed, his breathing uneven even though he is sleeping as if he isn’t getting enough air.

My stomach tightens in a knot from watching him. He’s too helpless like this and since I’m the one that should be feeling defenceless next to him, I decide it’s better I leave.

I need to handle this on my own without Penny’s help on account of her not believing that Baz is a vampire or about him plotting my downfall.

So I head to the library and stack up on every book that mentions vampires.

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

# SIMON

My trip to the library paid off and I’ve gotten several insightful books about vampires. When I return to our room with all my findings, it’s already dark and Baz is still asleep. Something coils inside my stomach. I lay down the books on my desk and switch on the reading light. I don’t want to startle him.

I don’t believe Baz himself knows what is wrong with him. I keep wondering why. Why wouldn’t he want to know? I don’t want to consider the most logical, obvious answer — that he most likely despises his own nature. 

The idea of Baz hating a part of himself turns my stomach the wrong way. Admittedly I’ve been calling him a monster for years. I don't actually mean it for the most part. He is evil, of course. (Or at least I need him to be.)

Besides, I also happen to be of the opinion (and I doubt I'm the only one) that he’s perfect. _Bloody_ perfect. That’s his greatest vice. 

Doesn't Baz realise how perfect he is? Surely he has to know that, if his snobbish behaviour is any indicator. I want to believe that, except other thoughts start to intrude my mind, uncomfortable thoughts. 

Baz’s mum was killed during the vampire attack at the nursery. 

He was there, still a tiny toddler. I try not to think about that. It would mean vampirism was forced onto him, that no one asked him if he wanted it. (Not that a toddler would even be able to make that kind of decision and then be held accountable for it as an adult.)

It makes me mad at the vampires who did this to him, while before I believed I had to be mad at Baz himself for being a vampire. I thought I had to hate him for being evil. How am I to kill him, if I don’t?

Nonetheless, the feeling in my gut is torturing me. When he comes to, he’s feverish so I fill a glass of water and hand it to him, after helping him tilt his head up. 

Baz accepts my help even though he clearly doesn’t know it’s me. I don’t think he registers at all what is happening. That might be for the best — we don’t do nice things for each other. We tear each other apart. 

His eyes close as his head reaches the cushion and Baz is out again within seconds. I fill the glass up again and place it by his bed and go back to my desk and re-read the one book that I just realised held all the answers I was looking for. 

While reading it, my mind is bombarded by so many thoughts I try to avoid. Baz is sick and there is a simple enough solution. 

It’s a coming of age thing. 

Vampires don’t need a regular intake of human blood to survive. However, they do need it. Once every nineteen years. It’s part of the mating cycle, apparently. Which means that the blood has to be taken mid-coitus, as the book calls it. Not that there are less embarrassing words for sex. 

_Making love_ sounds less embarrassing. Then again, it’s not like Baz is capable of that, or is he? Does he have a girlfriend he loves? I feel uncomfortable imagining that so I stop.

If he doesn’t do the mating ritual he will rapidly become feverish, violent, and then die. I’d say, based on his demeanour, Baz is somewhere between stage one and two so there’s very little time left, but enough to do what has to be done. After all, he just needs to have sex with someone and bite them. 

However, imagining him doing that with anyone makes my stomach tighten... 

I’m too immersed in the book to notice when Baz wakes up. When the main light turns on I get startled. 

His voice is taunting when he asks, “Worked out what the grand scheme is yet?” He’s lisping and I wonder if it’s his fangs. (There was a mention of it in one of the books.) The light is bright enough for me to see his face but before I can look, he spells the main lights off. 

When Baz picks up the glass of water and starts drinking I follow the movement of his throat, swallowing. I suddenly feel a blush creeping up my whole body. So I clench at the book with both hands and try not to envision him swallowing anything at all.

Right. I need to pull myself together and have this conversation with him.

“Um. You’re awake,” I practically squeak and hope Baz hasn’t noticed how much I’m blushing. I mean this is going to be embarrassing for the both of us. 

I wish I could see him better and at the same time, I also don’t. I’m not sure how to have this discussion with him. How does one talk about sex and blood with one’s enemy?

“Well observed,” he replies, one condescending eyebrow raised makes me feel stupid for asking, “I have no idea how long for, so if you’re going to accuse me of something, make it quick.”

He staggers to his feet and almost falls down. I move to catch him. For some reason, I can’t stand the idea of Baz falling down. 

Of course, he isn't having it and snarls at me the arrogant prick that he is. He doesn’t want to show weakness in front of anyone — me especially. 

Even that doesn’t discourage me from what has to follow. From the discussion that we must have. I don’t really care about his opinion of me. Besides, he made it perfectly clear on many occasions that he doesn’t think much of me anyway. This isn’t anything new.

I also gather that if there's a chance of him trying to hear me out, then I should probably try and keep my distance, if that is what he needs. I stay where I am — a meter away from him. 

“You’re a vampire.” 

Baz doesn’t even blink before choking out, “Keeping the accusations generic today, I see.”

That isn’t what it’s about. Why does he always assume the worst about me? 

“No, I mean — you really are,” I proclaim with resolution. I’m right and we both know it. “You’re an actual vampire. And it’s your birthday in two weeks. And — Look, can I turn the lights on?”

“No,” he argues just so he can be difficult at every turn. I press the book to him, open to the right page. I marked it with a post-it so it’d be easier for him to read. Penny was horrified when she saw me at the library using post-its.

“Those are centuries-old books!” she exclaimed as if I was about to burn them all. She has an unhealthy fascination with old books and old magic. She prefers using old 1800s spells instead of the new ones the Mage is promoting. 

Penny says the old ones are stronger due to them staying outside of current trends. Surely the Mage wouldn’t want us to use weak spells. I do trust Penny’s judgment except it feels wrong to go against what the Mage says so I just try not to argue. (I have several long lists of topics that are too dangerous or too painful to contemplate.)

I switch the main light on. Baz closes his eyes. Perhaps I should have warned him first. Truthfully, I’m too agitated from agonising over our upcoming conversation to have brainpower left for anything else. 

Baz looks strained, his mouth is closed. He's undoubtedly trying to keep his fangs concealed. He needn't have bothered, I can clearly see that his cheeks are too full. 

He’s hiding his fangs from me despite the fact that he was the one to bare them to me earlier. Baz isn’t very consistent in his action which is likely due to the illness. I feel my breath hitching again. He probably doesn't recall our previous interaction. That is the only reasonable explanation. 

Usually, Baz is too focused to make even one wrong move, particularly around me. There are times I wonder if he is taking our animosity far more seriously than I do. Has he taken an oath and is now my sworn enemy?

He hasn't thrown away the book yet, which he is capable of doing if only to spite me. Baz’s hatred towards me knows no borders. Although he does share Penny’s weird obsession with old books, so perhaps it doesn’t go _that_ far. In any case, I hope it means he won’t just push it away. I really need him to read it.

# BAZ

I’m standing in front of Snow, holding onto the book he shoved at me. I want to toss it away, because I’m angry and what is it with Snow giving _me_ things, but I can’t. It’s centuries old book. That’d be sacrilegious. 

I am ready to argue with him on whatever subject he's planning to bring up, but it’s mostly out of habit. We both know I am too tired. I keep my mouth shut and my fangs out of sight. 

Presently, Snow merely suspects I'm a vampire, he has no substantial proof. He can never find out the truth about me. Snow _will_ go to the Mage. My fangs will be pulled and my wand snapped and that’s if I’m lucky. 

The Mage does not see killing vampires as murder. There are times I don’t see it as one either, that I simply should not exist, that the species I belong to is vile and less. I need to eat life to stay alive…

I just want him to say his piece and let me sleep some more or lock myself in the en suite. 

Perhaps a cold shower could solve two of my current problems. I have a fever which should not be happening to me in the first place and I’m exceedingly hard. 

Thank snakes Snow hasn't noticed. He never notices. If he did, I can assure you he’d be uncomfortable and disgusted. I wonder what would offend him more — sleeping under the same roof with me when he knows with certainty that I’m a vampire or that I’m queer. (My father seems to be more disappointed in my queerness than my undeadness.)

# SIMON

I’m so nervous talking to Baz about this, that I can barely form my thoughts.

”You weren't paying attention in class. I don’t need to tell you how unusual that is. Also, you looked sick and exhausted,” I start explaining. I don't add how my first guess was that he was plotting against me something so big, that he got too tired to focus on school matters. 

Firstly, I know he'll shut me down if I said it. I've noticed that every single time I use the word ’plot’, Baz immediately stops listening to me. 

As for the second reason, well, I feel bad for assuming the worst about him while he’s suffering. (The book did mention that the person in question would be experiencing a lot of pain.)

Baz is listening at least so I continue, ”I went to the library to do some research.”

He snorts at that and I can see it in his eyes that Baz wants to make a remark about me being an illiterate imbecile (it's a valid assumption). 

However, he refrains from doing that and I gather it's due to him being worried about revealing his fangs. 

Does it mean I can say anything without him interrupting me? There are quite a few things I’d gladly tell him, except his health is more important at the moment.

“You _are_ sick and there is a simple solution to cure your illness,” I announce as calmly as possible and nod at the book in his hands. I hope he’ll read.

Only Baz hasn't made a move yet and I’m forced to state things out loud, (although it's beyond embarrassing.) 

“It's a coming-of-age thing,” I confess. 

Baz’s composure doesn't falter and I try to match him as much as possible. “There's this ceremony or well… ritual, I guess,” I'm worried I'll be stammering in no time and try my damndest to power through this revelation. “You need to drink a person’s blood mid-coitus.”

Alright, I did it. I said it. My heart is going to give up on me any minute, and Baz is now gaping at me as if I am a maniac. 

“You’re fucking with me,” he retorts, his fangs are gone, presumably from the sheer shock of this information. 

If I had fangs, I'm sure they’d vanish too if I had to listen to my life long enemy speaking about sex.

Another thought occurs to me. Baz’s answer came out defensive. Is he scared? Suddenly, I get an overwhelming feeling that I don’t want him to be. I also don’t know how to say that so he’ll believe me. Instead, I point to the book. He reads it.

“Then the book is wrong,” he protests a moment later, only I think he believes me anyway. “On the same page, it says vampires burst into flames in direct sunlight.”

“Probably being metaphorical,” I grunt at his uncooperative disposition and go on. “I know you don’t like the sun.”

He grimaces at me.

“I’m not a vampire,” Baz attempts to hiss again. There isn’t much of a bite to him. He looks tired and frightened.

“It’s not the only book I checked either,” I finally admit, even though I don’t want to upset him. 

He’s not saying anything anymore and tries to walk away from me. 

Baz doesn’t get far. I know he is about to fall down, I can see it... He slides down the wall, pretending it’s nothing, as if he wanted to sit on the floor. We both know he didn’t. I… I don’t know how I feel about this — him being so weak.

I always thought Baz and I would meet on a battlefield. He will try to kill me and I will have to defend myself. There won’t be any other way. And he’ll attack me first. He has to, he has to be evil in order for me to survive it. I’ve killed so many creatures, by now I’ve lost count. But it’s different when it’s Baz. Moreover, I don’t exactly see him as one. 

Every dark creature in this world and its neighbours would love to see the mages fall. The vampires, the werewolves, the demons and banshees, the Manticores, the _goblins_ —they all resent us. We can control magic, and they can’t. That’s what the Mage says and I have to believe him because he’s the Mage. 

It's another matter entirely when it’s about Baz. I can’t hate him for being different. It just seems wrong to do so, to hate someone for not being like you.

That's racism and I try not to contemplate the fact that everyone in the World of Mages, the Mage himself in particular, stands behind that notion or how the decent thing to do would be to start second guessing any mission that ends with me killing others. (Which has been _every_ mission thus far.)

I push those thoughts at the back of my mind and concentrate on Baz instead. 

“Look — can I get someone for you?”

“I don’t want a doctor,” he argues weakly.

“No, I mean,” It’s extremely bothersome finding the right words. I feel awkward speaking about these things with Baz. It affects me for some reason, “You know. Someone to, er— ?”

“Penetrate?” He deadpans and my face burns more. Baz did that on purpose, he needs to be constantly difficult and pull one over me. Does he count me blushing like there's no tomorrow as a win?

I try not to imagine that because it seems painful somehow. “Don’t be a dick. I mean, do you have a girlfriend and should I call her?”

Baz’s eyes dart quickly to me and there’s something there. He looks at me as if I’m a complete moron when he chuckles bitterly, “I don’t have a girlfriend.” Well, how was I supposed to know that? 

“Okay. What about a professional?” I blurt out and honestly, I seem to be out of other options.

Baz just glares at me. “Let’s imagine I _am_ a vampire—”

“You _are_ a vampire.”

He rolls his eyes just like Penny usually does. Baz and Penny could form a group. They could if he wasn’t evil _or_ dying. I don’t want to imagine that — him dying. I push the thought away. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to go out and find a Normal sex worker, bring them to a magickal school they might not even be able to see, and ask them if I can drain all their blood?” He asks me with venom in his voice.

Why have I never noticed how dramatic he is? “The book doesn’t say it has to be all of the person’s blood.”

Baz trails off, “You’re missing the point here, Snow.”

He is the one that is missing a point. It's life and death. “So, you’re just going to _die_?”

“Hypothetically? Yes.” He doesn't look properly upset when stating that fact and it infuriates me as nothing before.

Fucking Baz. He always makes me feel bad — always. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s willing to die just to piss me off. How far is he willing to go in his hatred for me?

“This is such _bullshit_. I can’t believe you’re just giving up like this.”

“Well, I am.” It comes out casual despite the fact that he’s hunched on himself and is clearly in distress. Baz looks vulnerable and I hate everything about this scene. How can he do this to me? 

I haven’t been this angry in a long time. Without even making a decision, I yank him up by his pyjama shirt, I make Baz look at me. I make him listen to me. He has to. He has to listen.

It’s possible that I’m yelling now. “You don’t _have_ to die!” 

“I _am_ a vampire. Isn’t that what you want? For the monster to die?” Baz bares his teeth at me. All of them. His fangs are huge. And they look so sharp.

I expect I’d look like a complete tit if I had fangs, but Baz has always looked like a movie vampire. And this sickness made him even paler and greyer. The fangs push his top lip up even further, making him look even more pouty than usual. So, in a strange way, they actually suit him. 

Baz makes everything look good. He’d probably look like a fashion model while wearing the rutty clothing I wear at the care homes during summer. 

My eyes can’t look away from his fangs — I have a better view of them now. I’ve wanted to really see every detail of them for so long. 

I thought they would scare me. Instead, I keep imagining how it’d feel if they went into my neck. And for some reason, the thought isn’t unpleasant or terrifying. My trousers start to feel too tight. I shake my head. 

“No!” I get agitated and furious with him to say something like that. Baz is not a monster— he’s a bully and a snob and a complete arsehole, but he’s not a monster. I don’t know how to tell him this though. 

“All you need,” I explain in case he somehow doesn’t get it, “is someone who won’t turn you in if they know you’re a vampire. You must have told people before this. Other people must know. I mean, _I_ know.”

Is that the reason he’s worried about that? Does Baz assume he’ll be turned in? 

I mean I’ve threatened to do just that, I’ve threatened to kill him. 

Our fifth year down in the Catacombs I was holding my sword wishing I could just slice him in half. I was so furious from following him for months. I kept wondering if Baz put me under his thrall if he _made me_ follow him. I hated him for that. 

Now though, I just know I could never turn him in. I can't tell what prompts me to this exactly but I will keep his secret. 

Is it because I want to kill him fair and square? I’m not sure I want to kill him at all. I'm not sure I ever did even when I thought so myself.

Surely Baz has someone he trusts. 

“They don’t just have to know,” he practically spits out, “They’d have to be willing to let me fuck and then bite them. They’d have to put themselves in the hands of a vampire. Even you wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that.”

“I would if it would save your fucking _life_ ,” I growl back at him and realise what I’ve just said. 

However, after a moment I can see how it’s not as shocking as one might interpret at first glance. It suddenly makes a lot of sense. I need to do this.

The reason is simple — I obviously don't want him to go to Agatha with this. 

I know she’ll do it, she’ll have sex with him. Because who wouldn't? It’d be a dream come true for anyone. 

If he made an announcement at school that he’s interested, there’d be an unending line to our room. 

Baz is _so_ fit — the silky black hair one would want to thread their fingers through. His eyes grey as a storm at the deepest corner of the sea. The kind of storm that lures the bravest and most foolish men to try and sail through only to meet their inevitable demise. His cheekbones one would want to trace with both fingertips and lips. Speaking of lips — his are the most beautiful ones I've ever seen. They look like a Hollywood movie star’s already — full and pouty, and impossible to not want to kiss. 

He’s a footballer too — strong arms and thighs. A ripped stomach with the leanest eight pack. (Seeing that six just isn't enough for him.) The way all those muscles flex when he’s on the field. Baz is fitter than a goblin.

And he doesn't even have to dress up to look good. He always looks incredible. Frankly, the only complaint I have about his appearance is his hair. 

Don't get me wrong, I am in no way saying that it doesn't look good — it does. 

Nevertheless, if Baz would skip the hair gel and just let his hair loose around his face... Well, no one looks as hot as he does. Agatha would be first in line to have sex with him for sure. 

Just the thought of them together makes me feral. Imagining Baz touching her, kissing her, whispering in her ear how much _he_ wants _her_ is unbearable. 

I guess I love her after all. I never knew…

Baz looks shocked at my suggestion. I suspect this is the first time I’ve managed to leave Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch speechless. At first, as shock gives way, it seems as if he's going to agree. Then something flickered behind his eyes and he sneers: “I won’t have sex with you.”

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

# BAZ

“Is it because you're not gay?” Snow questions me and continues before I get a chance to respond, “Don't worry, I'm not gay either. So it doesn't count.”

How nice of him to clarify that for me, “Well, Snow. For your information, I am gay,” I declare and don't wait for his reaction. I know it’d be a bad one and that it's not worth getting upset about. Yet, I can't make myself pause and let him offend me and see the disgust on his face. (I’m a Pitch. I should be used to hatred. What can I say, I am a liar and a disgrace to my last name.)

No, you are correct, I can't go on pretending that this is nothing more than an adolescent crush. I've deluded myself plenty with those beliefs until our fifth year. It’s time to face the truth once and for all. 

“It doesn't mean I want to shag my halfwit roommate, now does it?” I add with a scowl.

He'd do it out of pity. And that is admirable of him, noble even. That's who Simon Snow is — he’ll always do what he believes is right. After all, he is going to finish me off one day.

The problem isn't whether or not I want to do it. (I do.) The problem is what will happen after. I will be too weak, I’ll beg him to love me, on my knees if I have to. He won't. Snow will be disgusted by me and my love. 

He will never choose me, he will never consider me for a relationship. There is no chance of that ever happening.

Snow would never love a bloke, a vampire, a monster. After the ritual, he'll know how much more of a monster I truly am. A dark creature that should be put down. 

“Why do you always have to go for the lowest blow?” He’s tearing his hand through his curls now, practically growling. Simon is lovely even like this — he's always lovely. 

I feel the rest of the blood going to my cheeks. ”If you think that's the lowest blow, you should spend more time looking in the mirror,” I spit with enough venom to distract him from my blush. I sneer again. 

“At least I can see my own reflection,” he remarks and not for the first time I am left baffled by his ideas about my vampirism. _Of course_ I can see myself in the mirror; Simon Snow is a fool.

“The state of your personal appearance begs to differ,” I raise my eyebrow at him and start counting everything that is wrong with how he looks, trying not to ponder too much about the fact that in my eyes he’s perfect. “Your tie is hanging askew, you haven't buttoned up your shirt properly, and your hair is a mess.”

My taunting of Snow isn't up to par today. I'm clearly off my game.

In all honesty, it is getting more difficult to accomplish — the insults alongside the sneering. This is quite an inconvenient illness.

With the last of my resolve, I sneer at him and I make it good.

Snow growls this time. He bloody growls at me as his magic spreads the familiar scent of smoke in seconds. The air is thick and heavy. I must be truly getting on his last nerve for this to happen. “How hard is it for you to do what _I_ want for once?”

He probably hasn't realized what he said. I'm barely sure I do myself. 

“So you want to have sex with me just so I won't die?” I ask despite my better judgment. I am well aware he didn’t mean it. Yet a part of myself always manages to cling to hope. 

”What?” he shrieks, his hand that was reaching for his curls once again stood mid air, ”I don't _want_ to do it, I just _have_ to.”

Why would I have assumed otherwise? I know the reason, I am weak and I keep hoping he’ll show the tiniest glimpse of interest in me. You are in your full right to call me an imbecile now. 

Why does he have to do anything? Is it his hero nature that compels him to save even those that are damned to hell? When Snow goes off with his magic, he shields people he knows. He did that to me once, when I tried to scare him with the chimera. 

Although this is an entirely different situation. His magic isn’t involved. He isn’t obligated to spare me even by his odd moral standards. 

I’m not one of his damsels in distress. Why would he want to save me? Except he said he doesn’t want to, he just has to. What does that even mean?

Snow is convinced that he has to save me. Why, and for what? 

Neither one of us is going to be happier after that. He despises me and I am in love with him. That practically screams a bad fit for a one time shag, wouldn’t you agree?

I'd rather die now than live through him rejecting me after I've tasted his skin and his blood. I won't survive that. It will break me into irreparable pieces, it will be a slow demise, inside my own mind, as only the worst kind of nightmares can be. 

That isn't a pain I'd be able to deal with. It's a death sentence on its own, but far worse. A sentence to every circle of hell, all at once. I am not strong enough to go through that.

No. Death right now seems more peaceful, less unbearable, despite my body being in agony at the moment. And it’s just the beginning. I can deal with that kind of pain.

I suppose I might even welcome the physical pain and simply pretend that’s all to it. That my heart hasn't been breaking over and over again every time Snow and Wellbelove get together, after getting a glimpse of hope while they were apart.

Frankly, I never knew how to pretend to detest Snow; it never made sense to me. I’m not entirely sure I know how to hate, not really, not completely. I seem to lack the capacity for true hatred. 

Besides, trying to hate Simon afflicts me with more pain in the end. Each cruel world, each sneer. They may be directed at him, but they bounce back to me and hurt me tenfold when I see his face, his eyes filled with sadness. 

Misery has been my closest friend since the age of five. I'm secure with it. It's familiar. 

I don't want it — I never did. Even though I'm dead, well half-dead on a good day (today isn't one), I still crave love and happiness. The reason for it is simple — I'm weak. 

_Every time I cast a glance your way Simon Snow, I break. Yet, I still watch you, like a mad man admiring a mirage in the middle of a desert._

_It hurts to look at you and it hurts not to…_

So I let the pain dull out my other senses, dull out my heart. 

“What can I say, Snow, I don't want to have sex with you either and I don't have to do anything you say.”

He’s pacing around me now, circling me like a shark and I sit back onto my bed. I'm worried I might reach for him when he’s this agitated and upset. 

You don’t need to remind me that the last thing I need is to try and comfort him and fail miserably. He doesn’t want that from me.

“Why is everything a fight with you?” Snow bellows while glaring at me. 

“Me?” I counter, trying not to state it as an accusation, “Why do you want to save my life all of a sudden?” The word ‘life’ leaves a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. I can’t let him know what I really think about myself. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Because I— ,” he falters and for a second my traitorous mind imagines him saying that he likes me. Snow shakes his head and clears his throat. ”We're going to meet on the battlefield,” he answers and then mutters so low I can hear it only due to my enhanced abilities. “I want it to be fair at the end.”

Of fucking course, he’s referring to our infamous battle he’s been looking forward to for years now. 

Simon Snow is trying to save my life so he can kill me himself. Perhaps I should simply spare him the trouble.

Despite him breaking my heart, I want to phrase it better, but the familiarity of rudeness towards him is tugging on my insides. 

“Death seems a far more pleasant notion than having sex with you,” I spit with as much disdain I can muster.

Snow stomps towards me furiously. He’s a vision — his whole body flushed and radiant and alive. 

_You're so alive, Simon Snow. I wish I could feel what you feel._

His eyes are piercing mine, but his hostility quickly switches to concern as he approaches my bed, his hand twitching. He starts to reach for me with uncertainty. 

My undead heart skips a beat. I want him closer, not so I can steal his life but simply so I can feel it, so I can feel _him_.

Of course, all of that must be a part of my illness-induced hallucination. In the next instant, Snow’s face is contorted into a grimace. This makes more sense. Snow would never look at me with anything other than fury in his gaze. 

Somehow I’ve imagined him reaching for me and I am weak enough to believe in my own fantasy. That’s how bad it’s gotten, how cruel my brain is.

When Snow screams at me — his fists are tightly clenched as his sides, his voice full of anger. “How can you be so selfish?” 

”I'm sure you could find someone else to fight with. Surely you hate some other people as much as you hate me.” I hiss at him.

“It has to be you and me at the end of the war. It’s our destiny, we both know it,” he’s yelling and isn’t even trying to reign his temper in. Simon Snow has quite the temper. “Can’t you just— ?“

“No,” I respond as dryly as possible.”I just can’t.”

Snow flashes me a glare, his voice is getting ragged. He’s going to break it if he keeps going on shouting.

“What the hell is wrong with you? It’s just sex, it means nothing.” 

_It means everything to me, Simon._

“Haven’t you noticed, Snow? I simply don’t care anymore about your petty war,” I make sure to curl my lip in order to hide its trembling. I won’t cry in front of him. I need to hurt him and make it good so he will leave me alone and let me die in peace. Even though it breaks my heart uttering these words, I still do, “Who’s to say that sex with you won’t make me more sick?”

Snow can never know what I’m feeling. And yet, I may have revealed more than I should with all my confessions.

I close my eyes then because I can't see him like that. I can't look at him when he’s filled with hatred and disgust. On any other day, I would have enjoyed the hate in his eyes — it’s a real feeling directed at _me_ , he’d be giving me something. 

However, it's too much to handle right now. I feel too vulnerable, too raw, my undead heart is open and bleeding. I need to gather myself before I’m ready to face him again. 

Fortunately, I don’t have to concern myself with that for too long. My inevitable end from this illness should come soon enough and claim my body alongside my mind. That is all I have left to offer to death. My soul is already gone. It was taken from me at the age of five. 

Will I get it back in death, I wonder? Or perhaps the heinous act that was done to me shattered my soul forever and there is nothing left.

“Jesus Christ,” Snow only swears like a Normal when he’s truly angry, “You're such a prick,” he spits and leaves our room, leaving his jacket behind and practically sending the door off its hinges. 

_Good_ , I think. I can't stand him here next to me, going on and on about how much he hates me but would still have sex with me just so he can kill me later, in a fair fight. That fight would never be fair due to one simple fact: I could never hurt him.

Perhaps you might consider this to be a rash decision on my part. I can assure you it is not. 

I've spent so many sleepless nights at the Catacombs contemplating just that — my final death. 

I was never supposed to have survived. Mother and I, we should have gone together the day the monsters attacked the nursery. I was turned into something that would harm a small child — a toddler. Is there a more heinous act than that? To hurt the truly innocent… 

I don't want to be a monster, I never wanted to be one. Snow doesn't see me as anything more than that. In his eyes, I am already dead. 

Snow is right. And he is better off without me here to look at him or to torment him. 

I'm constantly altering between two polar opposites. One extreme, trying to reach the edge of the universe that is Simon Snow. Hoping one more insult will finally make him notice me. And the other extreme, where I hide all my feelings for him. 

_Both_ _take considerable energy, Simon. Energy I simply do not possess anymore._

He’ll have a better time at school. He won't have to succumb to his spoken assumptions about me. I wonder if there are any unspoken ones? Is there anything he assumes about me that he had not shared? I doubt that. Snow tells me every terrible thing he thinks about me…

In the interest of being completely honest with you, I know I am going to die. And I am alright with that. It's better than the alternative. In fact, I think I might be waiting for death now with a certain anticipation. I've accepted my fate.

I am well aware that this isn't me doing an honourable thing. No, it's the coward's way out. 

Brave would be to _fuck_ Snow (because he’d never let me make love to him) and go on with living, torturing myself with memories of our bodies together for the rest of my existence.

_I'm not brave, Simon. That's always been you._

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

# SIMON

Baz said no. He rejected me. And I do feel hurt _and_ disappointed. How could he do this to me? I mean… I don’t know what I mean. I storm out of the room, leaving him behind. But the irony is that he is the one planning on leaving _me_ behind.

According to him, death is preferable to sex with me. Like I care. I don't even want him. 

Besides, sex is overrated. Agatha and I tried — twice. The second time was worse than the first since I couldn’t even get it up (she just sighed with disappointment and pushed me away). Regardless, if it saves Baz’s life he needs to do it.

I am beside myself with every bad emotion there is. Everything is boiling inside, screaming to get out. 

The conversation with Baz left me in such a state where I can't think properly. I left without a jacket. I am not even sure where I’m going. I’m too angry to ponder about trivial things like common sense. That’s Baz’s fault. He constantly ruins everything.

My cheeks are hot and itchy, and that’s always a bad sign. I might go off. My magic starts simmering all around me. I just need to calm down. 

At first, I run to the ramparts. I look around me yet hardly notice anything. I glance down at the grounds from above. It’s not dark since the moon is out. It doesn’t look beautiful or comforting — the moon and the stars. Not today. Instead, it makes me angrier. The wind is flapping against my face and it’s not helping. I’m overheating too, just like Baz now.

My mind keeps circling back to Baz and all the turbulence inside me is getting out of control. He’s just giving up — the bastard. I haven’t noticed the tears streaming down my cheeks. 

I’m not sure how exactly I ended up at the Catacombs, by headmistress Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s tomb. 

There are wilted flowers next to it. Baz must have visited his mum recently before he got too sick. I touch them and think about how I wish they were blooming again. My magic floats around me and the flowers come to life. I have no idea why my magic works like that. Regardless, at this moment I am glad it does. 

As I settle down on the stone floor next to her tomb, I start talking to Baz’s mum.

“Hi, Baz’s mum. I mean headmistress Grimm-Pitch.” I'm not sure how to call her exactly. Should I address her by her title or not? 

Not that it matters since she’s dead… Baz doesn't have a mum. I know how _that_ feels, even if I never met mine.

“Baz is sick,” I begin with the most vital information. I also want to complain to her. I never get to do that, to complain about Baz as much as I need to. Penny put a quota on me. I believe his mum deserves to know, ”I am very angry with him.”

Honestly, I feel a bit like a tit for having a conversation with a dead person who isn’t even here. (It’s not like she’s coming through the Veil right now or anything.) Nonetheless, I keep going. I might be too upset and I don’t want to _talk_ to anyone, not really, not about Baz being sick.

“Your son is a prick,” I proceed and feel guilty for saying that. “I mean he isn’t… He’s just difficult and he is stubborn and…” I’m not even sure what I am trying to say anymore. I only know what I wish for. “Why can’t Baz just choose to live?” That’s what is at stake — his life and he’s rejecting it, turning his back on the world; on me.

Of course, Baz’s mum doesn’t answer and that makes it easier to go on. Usually, I get flustered speaking about difficult subjects to people. This is easier. As I started I can’t seem to be able to shut up. 

“It shouldn’t be this hard to make this choice. It’s simple. Why would he refuse? Is he attempting to die just to spite me?” It sounds idiotic when I say it out loud.

I’m still crying, my shirt is soaked by now. “I can’t let this happen. I just can’t…”

The cold stone ground doesn't cool my body down. Nothing is helping; my magic is burning too hot. For once, I almost wish I’d just go off. Except Baz’s mum’s tomb would collapse and I could never do that to Baz, take the last reminder of his mum away from him.

“He can’t just leave me…” I try to say it in a way that would make sense. That I have a destiny and that is to fight Baz to the death one day. Yet that’s not what I meant, and for the first time ever I let myself feel everything that's been hidden in the corners of my mind.

So many memories, old and new, come back to me. They were never gone. But they were on the list of things to never think about too hard, too dangerous to hope for. 

Things like having a family and someone who’d care about me that isn’t Penny. A different kind of care, the kind I only ever craved from one person.

Have I been daydreaming about Baz for years? 

I’ve never admitted to it out loud. Only there’s no one around. It’s just me and Baz’s mum, well, her grave.

“I might be in love with your son,” I confess after a while and feel my chest untie as if there was a knot that has finally worked itself out. I know it’s true and the realisation makes me sob harder.

It’s one thing to know one’s enemy is dying, another when it’s someone who means so much more. I must have known on some level how I felt about him. Why else would I have been that angry at him for preferring death over me?

I sink to the floor, my sobbing getting harder and louder. 

By the time the crying fit ends, my whole body aches and my chest is heavy, there is a new knot, a heavier one due to the fact that Baz is going to vanish.

He isn’t _just_ dying. No, Baz is choosing this — death. He doesn’t have to, there is a solution. Simple or not, it’s still a way for him to live. 

Baz wants to die. Not as if he is actively trying to kill himself, but he isn’t going to fight against his illness either. Which is practically the same thing. 

Why would he do this? Something must have changed. Has Baz been hurt or hurting? Is it because he despises his vampirism or is there more? 

What terrible thing is happening inside his mind and heart for him to wish to do this — choose death? I can’t stand the idea of him suffering this badly. It’s not right being that Baz is...everything to me. I am just realizing. I want him to be happy, not killing himself.

I’m not getting enough air at the thought of that. My chest is tight and heavy as if I am being crushed from the inside. My own magic surrounds me in a thick fog.

Eventually, my body feels so far away, but not my consciousness. No, my mind is going insane at the thought of Baz not existing anymore. Him being in harm's way, him doing that to himself. 

I try to gather some strength because I need to speak to Baz’s mum, I need her to know how sorry I am. 

“You died for Baz, gave your own life for him. I’m so sorry I can’t save him now.”

Thirteen more years is what Natasha Grimm-Pitch’s sacrifice has given him. There should have been more. Baz should have a long life ahead of him. 

“This isn’t fair,” I keep repeating over and over again through the tears and the choked breathing.

“Baz is going to die and I can’t do anything about it.”

This isn’t about me and yet the bitter realization of being a complete failure seeps into my mind. Baz always said that I was the worst Chosen One who’s ever been chosen.

He was right. How can I save the World of Mages if I can’t even save the person I love the most? The person whose survival means everything to me. I would give anything up for him to live. Except I have nothing to offer. 

I’m not even sure it’d matter if I had anything to trade to ensure his survival. I’d give my life for his if it was an enemy and not an illness that was killing him. I’d push him away and sacrifice myself instead so he would live while I die.

That would have been as easy as breathing for me with a clear threat and the knowledge of how to save Baz from it. 

Except this isn’t a battle against someone sinister. Baz decided to perish all on his own. He made up his mind.

Is there a way to change his mind? To convince him not to? What is there to do? 

I’m too agitated, too heartbroken. I try to still my heart rate and stop shaking. 

As I lie like that for a moment I try to concentrate through the haze of sorrow and pain surrounding my mind, dipping deep into my bones. 

It takes some time. Eventually, my mind comes back to me and I can focus better.

Perhaps I’m going all wrong about this. Who’s to say that what is happening now isn’t another mission? I’ve been in countless battles and I survived. I’m used to doing whatever has to be done.

This time I have a far better motivation than it being the right thing to do. I _need_ Baz to live, for him and for my own selfish reasons. The World won’t be complete without him. If Baz perishes everything will become empty and meaningless for me. I can’t carry on if he’s gone.

Baz has to live. That’s all that is to it. There are no other alternatives. I won’t accept his decision no matter what he thinks he wants.

I begin compiling a list, the way Penny always does. What I know and what I don’t. 

Baz is required to have sex with someone and bite them during the act for his illness to be cured.

However, he said he doesn’t wish to have sex with _me_ when I offered. This knowledge is more painful now, but it’s not the end. I can work with this. 

All I want is for Baz to be alright. So, if he prefers someone else, I'd find that person for him. 

Even though I feel as if I could kill them with my bare hands, anyone he’d do it with. I _want_ to kill anyone who even comes close to him.

I frown and sigh heavily. Who might he like exactly? I’d drag anyone who Baz fancies in here, anyone he prefers. Not against their will, obviously. But no one in their right mind would say no to Baz, anyone with half a brain cell would go for him. 

Unless Baz is into someone who has no brain cells at all — an actual moron. That doesn't sound like his type, though...

And I am fully capable of threatening whoever that person is against going to the Coven and revealing Baz’s secret.

It's not that everyone is afraid of me. Penny isn't, I don't think. Baz isn't either. It's because he's fearless, he's not even afraid of death. 

All the rest of them are. It’s not that I’m big — I’m just bold. And when people look at me, they tend to see everything I’ve killed before. Even my classmates shy away from me when my magic is sizzling on the edge of my skin. 

Magicians want to be close to me due to my magic. The smell of it is like a drug to them. All the same, I don’t imagine anyone actually likes me or trusts me for that matter. 

At times I wondered if anyone ever sees me as more than a weapon, a nuclear bomb. I’ve tried not to overthink it. I’ve tried to pretend that it doesn’t bother me — the fear in their eyes at my power. It does though, more than I ever dared to acknowledge. 

This time, it might work to my advantage. No one would dare to turn Baz in if I personally threaten them with enough anger. Which won’t be a problem.

The problem is I'm not even sure if I can let that person leave _after_ or if I chop their head off for touching Baz. Probably the latter. 

I guess I can try not to do it since they will be doing me a favour by sleeping with Baz. Having sex, they are sure as hell not spending the night. Unless Baz wants that, of course. I’ll never go against his wishes…

It seems wrong to be considering those topics next to his mum. I’ll plan more later. 

“Baz is going to be alright,” I whisper to her and hope that she can’t read my thoughts, wherever she is. It's a mystery to me still, what happens exactly to a magician's soul when they are gone. I only know that they can come back through the veil.

”I will keep him from harm, I swear.” I am probably reassuring myself foremost. I don't imagine Natasha Grimm-Pitch can hear me. She isn’t actually buried here. Her remains were never found after the vampire attack. Her tomb is symbolic, possibly to bring peace to her family, to _Baz_. 

Judging by the flowers it was giving Baz some kind of comfort to have a grave to come to, to pay his respects. He probably talks to her too. I can’t stand the thought of him being laid here in two weeks. 

Fresh tears are streaming down my cheeks. I won’t let them cloud my judgment. There’s a mission to be executed and nothing can stand in the way of that.

I have to save Baz’s life. It won't be easy, I know that much. The way he looked at me — stoic and resolute. Baz isn’t afraid of dying. 

I am. I'm afraid of death. I haven’t lived yet. I haven't gotten a happily ever after. That's all I’ve ever been working towards. The happy ending is when things are going to begin for me. Or so I thought. I won't have that if Baz dies. There won't be anything for me. I can't carry on without him. I need him alive. Baz can curse me after if he wants to, whatever he wishes, just as long as he is _alive_.

Before I leave, I unclasp the chain with my cross and try to figure out what to do with it. It's actually a beautiful artefact. It was black and tarnished when Dr. Wellbelove gave it to me; I’ve rubbed it gold.

It’s time to give it back to Agatha. And break up with her. I almost forgot we’re still together. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

# SIMON

Baz is sleeping when I come back to our room. This time I stand by his side and do watch him sleep. It is creepy in a way. I can’t stop myself regardless, not now… not when he’s dying and I know that I’m in love with him.

He doesn't look any different to me now; there isn't anything new about his appearance striking my mind.

Baz is as fit as I always thought him to be. It probably means I've had feelings for him for a very long time. 

I try not to think about how beautiful he looks though, since I know he's sick and I need to concentrate on saving his life instead of ogling at him.

Sleep doesn't come easy to me. I toss and turn, thinking about Baz while listening to his breathing. In other words, nothing has really changed. At least not much.

In the morning I bring over some breakfast for him and leave it on his nightstand. 

Penny looked at me weird but didn’t say anything.

Baz hasn't moved an inch, and is still sleeping. I decide to go to classes today, mostly so I can take notes for him. 

With all my thoughts preoccupied with Baz (it's nothing new, really) I almost forgot that I need to break up with Agatha. Half of the time I don’t even remember if we’re together or not since she keeps ending things with me. 

By the time I get back to the dining hall, I'm worried Agatha might be already gone. It’s a relief to see her sitting alone at one of the tables. 

She doesn’t look that happy when I ask to speak to her, but she actually cheers up once we’re in the Magic Words classroom and I tell her I think we should break up. She’s already hugging me.

“Thank you, Simon. I knew it wasn’t working. I’m so glad you feel the same way.”

Well, that was much easier than I thought. She accepts the cross and the chain from me and gives me a long look. I wonder if she knows, except I don't actually wish to talk about Baz with her.

Instead, I wave her goodbye, “I’ll see you in Elocution.”

It’s hard to concentrate in class when I’m constantly thinking about Baz.

When I’m back before lunch, he is still asleep and his food is untouched.

He comes to after a while.

“Baz— “ I don’t know what to say exactly. I want him to eat.

He seems a bit delirious, semiconscious; his gaze unfocused. 

I sit down on the edge of his bed and help him up, “Here,” I say and bring a glass of water to Baz’s lips. 

He drinks and I manage to get him to eat some as well. 

Eventually, Baz partially loses consciousness. He’s feverish, burning up. I take hold of him and move him carefully over to my bed and change his sheets. 

I know that I should change his pyjamas as well, nevertheless, I don’t feel right doing that. 

Instead, I get a wet flannel from the ensuite and clean him up a bit, not everywhere — only his face, neck, shoulders, his arms and legs, where I can roll up the fabric and reach. Just so he’d feel better when he wakes up. 

Then I move him back to his bed. Baz is holding on to me, except he doesn't know it's me, he's pretty out of it.

“Simon…” he mutters and I think he might be coming to, but then he continues, “You will never choose me.” I shiver. Does he speak about me? It can’t be! He must be into some other bloke whose name’s Simon too. Which hurts to hear yet also gives me hope. I need to find this Simon and make him choose Baz.

* * *

When Baz wakes up in the afternoon, I ask him upfront: “Who’s Simon?”

He looks at me confused, “What?”

“You were calling after him last night,” I clarify, “said he’ll never choose you.”

Baz sneers at me, or as much as he can in his current state: “Snow, that is a fictional character from my favourite book — Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.”

He gives me a look that more or less says that this book is too sophisticated for me, “It's not Simon, it’s Simoné — the name has deep French roots. He’s the second-eldest of the Bennet children — a brave and exceptionally handsome young lad who falls in love with charming yet profoundly misunderstood Mr. Darcy.” 

Oh… So Baz is not in love then. It's not really a relief. I need him to get it with someone _real_ so he’ll live.

If it’s Baz’s favourite book, I should bring it over for him to read or read for him out loud if he’s too weak. Maybe it’ll cheer him up — give him some will to live even. Although, I'm not going to bet on that last part. 

I bring bacon butties for Baz and catch a few rats at the Catacombs for him. It wasn’t easy. I have no idea how he did it every other day. But I’ve managed after an hour or so of chasing them. I help him eat when he wakes up. 

Baz isn’t really aware of everything that is happening. He’s very feverish and confused. 

# BAZ

I wake up somewhat disoriented. My memory must be getting worse. It seems I have changed my sheets and eaten and hunted as well since I feel full, on food and blood; even though I have no recollection of doing that. 

However, I have very little time to ponder that with Snow pestering me about my illness and the ritual. He is relentless. Right this moment Snow is trying to convince me to have sex with someone else.

Who knew that by declining to have sex with Snow, I opened a Pandora jar of him naming bloke after bloke in our year and convincing me of said blokes hotness.

”Gareth isn't a bad looking bloke, Baz. Unless you're not into blondes?”

”Precisely, blondes do nothing for me,” I don't mind confessing that. What I do mind is Snow’s next question.

”Um- What's your type then?”

_You are, Simon. Only you._

”That is none of your bloody business,” I flare up scared half to death (only half for now) that my brain will betray me and I might confess my love to him. ”Leave me alone, Snow.”

He doesn't move a muscle; doesn't get angry with me for some reason either. 

“I can threaten them against turning you in,” Snow insists instead, his chin juts out in the most erotic way. I have to brace myself from reaching out and kissing him. It’s so much worse than our fifth year. (This illness is stealing my last resolve.)

“Most people are afraid of me,” he continues when I don't give him a response.

I know for a fact Simon Snow doesn't enjoy inspiring fear in his fellow magicians. I crave to soothe him, to say that most people are idiots, that he’d never harm an innocent, not on purpose anyway. I know it's the illness that is crumbling all my walls that were out in place to protect me against him.

However, I don't get the chance to do that since the next thing I know he’s spewing nonsense. 

“Just pick anyone and I'll make sure they do it.”

I can't deal with this. It's all too much.

“Call me old fashioned, Snow. But I want to feel something towards the first person I have sex with,” I look into his eyes when I say that, on purpose. “I am not ashamed to admit that.” 

He's looking back at me, fidgeting with the sleeve of his uniform, face flushed. 

I let myself enjoy his unbearable beauty for a few fleeting moments. In the end, it won't matter. I don't have much time left anyway. 

“Shouldn't you, of all people, understand that?” I continue, sighing bitterly, “I want what you and Wellbelove have.”

I am not trying to be mysterious and coy. What I really mean is I yearn after what Wellbelove has — _Simon Snow_. I don't say that out loud. I'm taking all my secrets to the grave with me.

I wonder if I can come through the Veil… I don't actually have a soul. Regardless, I don't really know how the Veil works do I? No one does…

Will I be able to visit him? Will I feel any pain? 

Snow growls at me. Why does he care? He should be happy.

# SIMON

As if… 

Why does he have to be this difficult? Why can't he just shag someone, anyone? Why does he have to _feel_ something?

Baz obviously could never feel anything towards me except for hatred. However, perhaps I could get him interested — _sexually_?

Baz said, not in so many words, that the thought of having sex with me repulsed him. I am assuming that is mostly due to us being enemies since I’m not a bad looking bloke. There had to be a reason why Agatha, of all people, went for me. What if I could seduce him?

Obviously I have no idea how to do that. I might need some help.

”Yes, I completely understand, Baz. I won't bother you again about it.” 

He visibly relaxes and I go on trying not to choke on my words because they are too painful to say. ”Since you're dying and all, I propose a truce.”

Baz gives me a contemplating look.

# BAZ

I am dying and what do I have to lose? This way Snow might actually leave me alone.

”Truce then.”

”Alright,” Snow beams at me and I wonder why he should be this happy about _not_ fighting me anymore. That was his favourite pastime for seven agonising years.

”Would you like me to swear with magic?” I offer since Snow is nothing if not overly paranoid. 

He gives me a wide grin, Chomsky only knows why, ”No. I trust you.”

I know for a fact that Simon Snow doesn't trust me. However, I don't call him out on it. I am starting to believe that the justification of his trust is simple enough — I am too weak to be seen as a threat. 

Well then, at least I can die knowing that I don't scare him anymore, despite me being a vampire, a vicious creature of the night who craves his blood. I also crave his body, for entirely different reasons. 

Snow drags his jacket on. ”I’m going down to the dining hall for the afternoon tea. I'll bring you something.”

I suppose this polite version of him is due to our truce. It would be rude to decline his offer and I nod, ”How gracious of you,” believe it or not, I do not try to sneer, ”thank you, Snow.”

”Happy to help.” Snow is all flushed again and he looks lovely. ”See you soon,” he mutters over his shoulder as he exits the room.

# SIMON 

I’m scared that Baz will realize I have feelings for him.

We're on truce now. That is a big change. It might mean that we can speak more to each other. I like that but it also terrifies me. I don't want to embarrass myself or let Baz find out about my feelings towards him. 

He’ll never have sex with me if he knows that I'm in love with him. I need to _seduce_ Baz first. 

Penny isn't in the dining hall yet and I gather as much food as I can carry on a plate and bring it up to our room with a pot of tea and a cup.

Baz is still awake. I set everything on the nightstand and pour some tea for him.

”That is unnecessary,” he argues.

I look at him, ”I don't mind. We’re on truce aren't we?”

”I suppose,” he replies warily. I want to say more but I don't. I'm worried that I might say too much, that Baz will know about my feelings towards him.

”Thank you,” he says and takes the plate and a cup of tea from me when I offer.

He isn't eating though, only drinking his tea.

I want to keep him company. Except I don't believe he’ll eat in front of me. Baz doesn't want me to see his fangs again. I want to see them — they are wicked. The thought of them sliding into my neck is taking over my mind and I feel myself blushing.

Right. I need to leave.

”I'll be back later,” I say and walk to the door.

”See you then, ” Baz answers and swallows. Is he nervous because of our truce? 

# BAZ

I am worried about how far I can take this newfound civility with Snow. I don't want him to find out that I'm in love with him and that I am spending all my waking hours daydreaming about the many obscene things I could do to him. 

Him leaving right now might be the best thing to happen. I need to _wank_ , desperately. 

Besides, I am hungry, too, and I don't want to eat in front of Snow. Then he’ll see my fangs and will regret offering me truce. 

# SIMON

I find Penny at one of the tables when I come back to the dining hall, “Penny? Can I ask you something?”

She doesn't look up from her book, while drinking tea when she mumbles, ”Sure.”

“How does one go about seducing someone else?”

She almost chokes on her tea, “Excuse me?”

“Do you know?” I ask again. Penny’s very smart. Surely she can help me.

She gives me a fierce look and it’s terrifying even through her glasses, “Simon, maybe it's better if you and Agatha don't get back together.”

I know better than to try and explain anything to her. After complaining for seven years how Baz is evil and a vampire, she would just assume he put me under a thrall.

Therefore, I grab a sour cherry scone, skip the afternoon tea and I head to the library to try and find something useful.

I’m browsing the aisles, trying to locate any category that would be considered sexy. I am not convinced there are any and I haven’t dared to ask the librarian for assistance. Do they have that kind of category at the library at all? 

I haven’t had any luck yet when I hear a few students talk about yoga.

“Some of those positions are sexy,” a voice says.

“You think everything is sexy because of the extra tight yoga trousers.”

I don’t finish listening to them and go over to the librarian.

“Do you have any books on yoga?” I ask her.

“Yoga this time, not vampires?” She answers with a chuckle.

“I have various interests in the mythological,” I try to chuckle to myself to dissuade her from considering too much about vampires. I’ve been speaking to far too many people about Baz being a vampire.

As soon as I get the book I go straight to Penny, hoping she’s still at the dining hall.

Her cup is practically untouched and she’s immersed in her studies.

“Penny—” I call after her as I put the book on the table.

She glances at the book and then at me, “What’s this?” I don't have it in me to take offence. I read books as much as any other person. Just because Penny and Baz practically live off books doesn't mean the rest of us do.

“You always say I need to take better care of myself,” I blurt out, not sure if she’ll believe me and show her the book.

Penny looks me up and down, “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Isn’t yoga healthy?” I ask instead of giving her a real answer, since I’m a terrible liar.

“Sure,” she mumbles, cringing her nose. Penny doesn’t actually enjoy exercising too much. “I am glad you decided to take my advice.”

I know for a fact Penny wouldn’t have any yoga trousers; she doesn’t exercise. (I don’t even know what that is exactly, sounds fancy — trousers just for yoga.)

However, I know she has leggings and those are tight too. I don’t know much. Nevertheless, I do know how gay sex happens and I also know that even though I am not on the football team, I still have a bit of muscle on my arse from all the battles I’ve been in. So if Baz would see my bottom in something tight he just might reconsider my offer. 

“Can I borrow your leggings?” I ask and hope she won’t second guess me.

“Simon, why on Earth would you need my leggings?”

“I don’t want to ruin my uniform and my jeans are too stiff,” I come up with a perfect lie right on the spot and have honestly no idea how that happened. I should thank my lucky stars.

Penny sighs, "Fine. I suppose it’s better than you wearing nothing save for your pants. Baz might curse you for that.” 

Would pants have been a valid option too I wonder…

“I’m going to spell one pair longer to fit you,” Penny says as she gets up from the table. “You don’t need to give them back, I have several pairs.”

It’s like I said — all the magicians are filthy rich.

“Thanks, Pen. I will wait for you at the library.”

She looks at me surprised, “You need them _now_?”

“I thought I’d start today,” I confess and it’s the truth. I’m planning to start seducing Baz today.

Before going to the library, I walk with Penny to her building, to keep her company and also so she doesn't get detained by something on her way. 

Technically, I shouldn't be able to enter Cloisters. Yet when Penny heads towards the door, I follow her without thinking and my magic lets me through. It should be shocking. However, I am used to unexplainable things my magic is capable of doing.

“That’s new,” she says but doesn't make a big deal about it.

Penelope can come inside the Mummers House somehow. She refuses to tell me how she managed it though.

Trixie, her roommate doesn’t care that I’m in the room when she comes in. 

“Hiya, Simon,” is all she answers when I greet her and starts absentmindedly turning the pages of a magazine, while sitting on her bed. 

I get a glance of the cover. There’s a word ‘sexy’ written in bold letters. (Library didn’t have anything like that to offer. At least I haven’t found it.)

“What kind of magazine is that?” I ask her.

Trixie looks over to me. “It’s about fashion and dating and such,” she explains. ”You can have it if you want. I’m already done with it.”

Dating sounds like a perfect topic. I don’t tell her that.

“Yeah, that sounds interesting.” I really hope I am not blushing, even though I feel my cheeks burn. 

“Oh it is.” Trixie gives me a smug grin and hands it to me. “Take it.”

Does she know that I’m in love with Baz and need to seduce him? Surely not. No one knows about my feelings for him. I hardly realised that myself until recently.

“Thank you.” 

I am going to read through the magazine before going back to our room. Maybe there are some helpful tips I can find.

* * *

After combing through every article that I found helpful, I am now fully prepared to seduce Baz. I get to it as soon as I enter our room. I hurriedly change in the en suite, pulling on Penny’s leggings and a t-shirt. I first thought to ask her to spell me a t-shirt tighter. Except then I’d need to explain to her why I needed that and, well, that did not seem like a good idea at the time.

I get out of the washroom and start performing what I hope to be some sexy positions. The positions aren't that difficult, at least the ones I'm doing. 

Baz is awake and tries not to show it. I know he is watching me.

I can hear him breathing. It’s ragged. Like he’s having trouble.

I’m trying not to enjoy it, because Baz is in pain, that’s why he sounds like this. But it’s probably the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. Baz’s breath hitching whenever I move in the right position.

I’m not sure if this is a striptease or what, still I am doing it. In front of Baz. He's letting me do it. I think he likes it. It's a start.

# BAZ

Those leggings leave nothing to the imagination, do they? And he's standing there with his behind in the air, I can hardly breathe… 

Crowley, I want him _so_ _much_ … More now even. I can see the very detailed curve of his bottom, and it looks plump and delicious. I wish to do so many vulgar things to Snow and his arse.

I’d start by tracing my fingers feather-light over his behind, and Snow would shiver from pleasure and anticipation. I would dip my head then and kiss his hips and keep kissing my way to his bottom. 

I’d like to shower it with kisses, and maybe even light nibbling with my teeth, not my fangs. (If Simon would be into that, of course.)

He’d moan and tell me to keep going and I would. I'd do anything to make him feel good.

Never in all my years of being in love with Simon Snow have I ever let myself imagine something like this. Too risky — my undead heart would break the moment the fantasy is over.

I caved now. 

I am dying anyway, it's not worth worrying too much about these fantasies, not anymore.

Carefully, I’d spread his cheeks and kiss his delicious hole. Then, I’d flatten my tongue over it and keep licking and probing.

Simon would shiver from pleasure and tell me how much he likes it. That he wants me to do more, that he wants _me_.

I’d get him ready. (I have all the necessary supplies in the nightstand by my bed.)

And since Simon in my fantasy trusts me, he’ll be relaxed — all the tension is gone from his body.

# SIMON

Everything is going according to my plan. Baz is panting. It might be time to strike. I am planning to flirt with him. I’ve read up on some articles about that. 

Winking can be a part of flirting too by the way. I did not know that. Also, I don’t know exactly how to wink. However, I am willing to try.

# BAZ

I am startled from my fantasy by Snow turning his gaze at me. (Crowley, I hope he hasn’t noticed how aroused I am.)

“Sorry,” Snow mumbles, all rosy cheeked, ”I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Not a problem,” I lie. I wasn’t asleep. Nevertheless, I am used to getting away with watching Snow without him noticing. This is not a welcome change.

“It’s yoga, supposed to be good for your health,” he proceeds conversationally and I am taken aback. Snow and I never had a casual friendly conversation during the entirety of our seven and a half years of antagonism. I know we're on truce now. Still, it all seems so surreal. No matter, I need to give him an appropriate response. 

There are many things you could accuse me of that are hurtful yet accurate, but rudeness is not one of them. I have an unprecedented ability to keep a polite conversation going when such a thing is warranted. It might be the situation I am in right this moment. Snow is being friendly to me and I am too weak not to answer in kind.

“Yes, I’ve heard that somewhere,” I manage to look in his eyes and not below his waist. Even though I can clearly see the bulge. (It's enormous.)

Snow blushes as he speaks, “You could join me, here on the floor. Or I could come to you.” 

What is happening here? Has Snow offered to teach me yoga? Why would he do that? My mind is a bit blurry and I almost spill all my secrets to him in that instance.

 _I would like you to come to me very much, Simon_ , _so I can kiss you_ , is what I think and thank snakes don’t say out loud.

I clear my throat and get up from my bed,” I need to take a shower.”

Snow gets up from the floor himself. “Need any help?”

This conversation is making less sense to me by the second. “In the shower?” I try to clarify. I wonder if I might be confused. It’s probably my brain playing tricks on me.

Snow steps closer to me. His blush is so lovely. We are so close I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to. (I do. I want to touch him so bloody much.) 

“Yes.” Something must have caught into his right eye; he’s twitching it some and blinks a few times.

“I could help you with whatever you like — nothing is off limits,” he offers and his voice sounds odd somehow. 

Regardless, he’s gorgeous and blushing and I want him. 

I could think of many ways how he might assist me in the shower. None of them are appropriate. My eyes are glued to his body and it’s hard not to linger over his crotch. I want his cock. No, that’s not quite right. I _need_ his cock. 

That is why I do the only sensible thing I can.

“Perhaps another time,” I breathe out and run away to the en suite, using up the little strength I have left. 

Aleister Crowley. My body is weak yet my cock is still just as painfully hard. I will need to wank several times before I can come back to our room, to Snow.


	6. Chapter 6

# SIMON

The next day, after classes, I borrow the Pride and Prejudice book at the library and bring it to our room. 

“What’s this?” Baz asks quietly. He’s been having trouble speaking. 

I wonder if he already forgot our earlier conversation. 

“Um- I brought you the book you like — Pride and Prejudice?”

Baz looks at me like I’m a moron with a silent question. He’s too sick to read, we both know it.

“I could read it to you,” I suggest nervously. Will he want me to?

# BAZ

I could have burst in tears just from those words. Simon wants to read to me. Why is he being this nice to me all of a sudden? I’m worried he can see the love in my eyes. I try to sneer (unsuccessfully), “It would do you good to read a classic.”

# SIMON

I sit next to Baz on his bed. He doesn't protest.

Instead, he props himself up against the headboard and waits for me to start. The book is not what I expected though. I am not sure what exactly I thought it would be, but people are more annoying, almost like real people are. 

_‘All this she must possess,’ added Darcy, ‘and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.’_ _  
__‘I am no longer surprised at your knowing_ only _six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at you knowing any.’_ _  
__‘Are you so severe upon your own sex, as to doubt the possibility of all this?’_ _  
__‘_ I _never saw such a woman._ I _never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe, united.’_

As I read I'm getting aggravated with the characters by the minute. They disliked each other from the beginning, practically on principle. Who does that? 

I mean Baz and I did that too but it's different. The Mage hates the Pitches and the Pitches hate the Mage. Although, I guess that doesn't actually have anything to do with Baz and me.

Eventually, Baz starts drifting off, his head is heavy and slides onto my shoulder. My heart tightens at that. I want that, casual touches that mean so much more than a purely physical attraction. But I can't do that, not when he's not aware of my feelings for him. 

Still, when I try to move he nuzzles against me, with his hand coming up to my chest and I automatically wrap my arm around his back. I probably shouldn’t do that but I do it anyway. I am not touching him inappropriately, or at least I'm trying to be respectful. Just hold my arm around his upper back. He shivers so I slide an extra cover that was lying next to Baz onto him. 

The book is actually interesting. People in it aren’t too bright. I mean I didn’t figure out exactly that Elisabeth and Darcy are into each other at first but later on, it’s fairly obvious. Some people are pretty thick, aren't they? 

* * *

Baz is getting worse and despite all the helpful magazine tips I haven’t managed to seduce him yet. I need more time and I need Penny. 

She’ll know what to do. 

I don’t tell her that I’m in love with Baz. Instead, I tell her that he’s sick and is dying and I need time to find a cure. 

Penny suggests I cast a healing spell since my magic is more powerful than anyone else’s. There are many to choose from and she goes on a lengthy recap that is even more detailed than the one Miss Possibelf has given us. If Penny will ever become a teacher, I’m not sure if I envy her students or pity them. Possibly both.

“It should work even with how unpredictable your magic is, Simon,” she finally says, “At any rate, it can’t hurt to try.” 

I sneak into our room and try to be quiet. Baz is asleep. I know what spell I will use. I do feel bad about using it on him when he doesn’t know. He’d never allow me to do so. Nevertheless, I need to try to slow down the progression of his illness until I can save him. 

He’s feverish still, lying with his limbs sticking in every direction. I sit by the foot of his bed and cast **_“Kiss it better!”_ ** while placing a soft kiss to his open palm. I’ve never cast this spell before and I’m not really in the right state of mind, my magic is still out of control and there's a slight glow to my skin. It happens sometimes when too much magic is trying to get out. 

But I had no other choice than to try. Healing spells like these never backfire according to Penny. So no matter how this goes it can’t get worse. I feel my magic float over to him and for a second Baz glows a bit the same way as I do. 

It’s a family spell — it’s the most powerful one if it comes from love. Theoretically, it should slow things down. 

* * *

# BAZ

I wake up with some newfound strength. Except I believe it's nothing but a shame, a cruel joke, the universe is playing on me. There are other aspects that are far more dangerous than the loss of energy.

As my illness progresses it’s getting harder to think clearly, even though my body feels better, stronger. It's the most puzzling thing. I feel healthier yet I am hornier somehow. 

In many ways, it makes everything worse. There are more hours spent wanking away my overwhelming arousal to no avail. I seem to be constantly hard and Snow’s presence is making everything worse.

# SIMON

My efforts in seducing Baz have not been as successful as I wanted to. I know he got a stiffy when I was doing yoga in front of him but he hasn’t responded to my flirting at all. 

Today I have another plan brewing. After the shower, I am going to walk out of the washroom with only a towel around my hips. I am also not planning on drying myself too much. Some people consider dewy skin sexy. That’s what was written in that magazine I got from Trixie.

Honestly, I think it's weird that looking dewy is suppose to be sexy. But since I don't have any personal knowledge about any of that, I just have to trust the magazine. 

I don't want to sleep naked outside for a whole night to get real dew on my skin (imagine if someone caught me), so I hope that wet skin after a shower will be a decent replacement.

I know he'll never just take what he wants. Baz isn't me. Now that I don't walk around accusing him of plotting, which he never did, I can see more clearly… Which means I need to get him interested somehow and make him understand that I want him.

Just the thought of Baz seeing me half naked makes me hard with anticipation. 

I get an additional brilliant idea I am going to try, something that might just work even better. 

I walk out of the en suite without getting dressed as planned. I even wrap the towel very loosely and _low_ on my hips. 

“Sorry, Baz,” I say as the towel drops to the floor and I turn just right so he’ll see my erect cock. I’ve been comparing cocks in the showers at the care homes for years. I know mine is a good looking one. I also think that me, unabashedly and with interest, staring at other bloke’s cocks probably indicates that I might be gay. I never gawked at anything of Agatha’s with this kind of enthusiasm. I don't mind her body, naked or fully clothed — she’s pretty. But it doesn't do anything for me, as in below my waist. 

Baz swallows and I follow the curve of his neck and back up to his face. A small, almost non-existent blush blooms across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. I watch as he licks his lips before he abruptly looks away.

I think he’s getting aroused.

# BAZ

“No worries, Snow,” I croak and hope my voice doesn’t break. “It could have happened to anyone.”

I’ve managed to say this utter ridiculous lie. In truth, I have no idea what is happening right now.

What is with this obscene behaviour recently? 

Snow is standing nude in front of me. Well, not me. Not exactly, I don’t think. He just exited the washroom, walking towards his wardrobe, I presume when his towel dropped. Purely by coincidence, he was standing in a manner where I got a very good look on his cock. His _hard_ cock.

Snow is gorgeous, I’ve known it for years. However, this is the first time that I am exposed to the beauty of his glorious cock — tawny and thick. My mouth starts to salivate and I want to curl my lips around his beast.

Before my hand reaches for him, I try to shake these thoughts out of my mind. I said it once and I will say it again. This is quite an inconvenient illness. It's making me too horny. I know you might argue that there's no such thing. On the contrary, there is. 

I can't be wanking every hour of every day. And Snow and his voyeuristic tendencies are affecting me more than ever.

His nakedness is both a blessing and a curse. My cock is painfully hard again. Or maybe it never stopped being hard. I don't even know anymore.

We’ve never walked in nothing but towels around each other. This is new and at any other time a welcome change. Except it is getting impossible to function with him like that.

Could it be simply that I am getting more ill and my brain is granting me a very realistic and generous (Snow’s cock is on the bigger side) hallucination as a consolation prize of death.

Perhaps I should not look the gift horse in the mouth. I am out to enjoy my numbered days on Earth. I am going to wank — _again_.

# SIMON

Baz looks very turned on. There’s a slight blush on his cheeks and he is licking his lips while watching me. Fuck, he’s so hot like this. I haven't figured out if I should leave and give him a possibility to wank or if that would just result in him wanking his feelings away. 

I'm talking about the sexual kind. He has none other for me. But it's a start. If he admits that he’s into me physically, and shags me, it means he’ll live.

That's the most important part. 

I just have to keep him alive — I have to do that. For any of the rest of it to happen. I have to keep him alive.

Afterwards, I will try to win his love. Who knows Baz might become interested in me romantically over time… I really can't think too much about it though. First, the matter at hand — saving his life.

I walk over to my wardrobe and unceremoniously start tugging on a pair of pants, making sure to squat and give Baz a better look of my arse.

He moans softly at the sight of me and that goes straight to my cock.

When I am done dressing, Baz gets up from his bed and slowly heads over to the en suite. 

“Let me know if you want some company,” I call after him.

Baz snorts, shakes his head a bit and disappears into the washroom.

# BAZ

Now I know this was nothing more than a mere illusion. It’s a good one and it will give me a better orgasm, imagining Snow offering to join me in the shower.

I am going to make this good.

# SIMON

After approximately one and a half hours, Baz emerges from the en suite, freshly showered and more than a little cheerful. I suppose the wanking put him in a better mood. 

“Up for reading more Pride and Prejudice?” I offer with a smile.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he says and I wonder if his illness is taking a turn for the worst since I am the one reading to him and not the other way around. 

My heart starts pounding uncomfortably. We are running out of time. I can’t show any concern on my face and spook Baz. Instead, I get comfortable next to him in his bed. We always sit in his bed, with him usually falling asleep halfway through.

This time Baz doesn’t fall asleep. He’s watching me, licking his lips. (I don’t think he knows I can see him out of the corner of my eye.)

My cock starts to swell at the sight of his tongue moving. I want him to lick my lips or me lick his. Any licking is welcome and would be greatly appreciated.

My pyjamas bottoms are straining against my throbbing cock. I might need to wank myself soon or I’ll explode. I hope Baz doesn’t find out how hard I am and kick me out of his bed. 

# BAZ

I don’t want to alarm you too much but I am fairly sure that my current health situation is now affecting my brain to the extreme. I can swear on anything that is dear to me that I am presently inhaling the divine scent Snow’s precome. I want to taste it, to taste him.

He’s lying so close to me and yet so far away. I wonder what I’d like more: his blood or his come? 

I can smell his blood too, pumping under the surface, especially when he goes scarlet. Which coincidentally happens a lot. Or at the very least, that is what my brain thinks…

Simon looks beautiful with a book in his hands. I enjoy him reading to me. I enjoy watching him. He’s been spending a lot of time in our room, even doing all his homework here and making notes for me. I’ve seen them, they are consistent and detailed.

If Snow wasn’t away on so many missions and had more time for homework, he’d have exceptional grades. 

I am well aware that I don’t need notes. I won’t live past my birthday. Regardless of that fact, it’s been lovely to see more of Simon; to spend some time with him not in a screaming match but in a comfortable silence. Or a different kind of intimacy, like now, with him reading to me.

The only problem at the moment is my aching erection. I’ve just wanked yet I need to do it again. I am worried Snow will notice and leave the bed. I can’t let him know.

I take a deep breath and listen to his breathing. Hopefully, I can survive another hour before I explode.

* * *

# SIMON

I continue reading to Baz the following days. 

Some lines stick to me more than others and hurt me in a way I never imagined a book could hurt before.

_“Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast.”_

As I read this I want to be angry with Mr Darcy for his demeanour. Unfortunately, all that happens is me thinking back to how I've behaved towards Baz. How I behaved in general. 

I kept calling Baz a monster while I killed countless creatures and he killed none, (not to my knowledge at least). Moreover, I've never even taken a moment to consider if they deserved to die. Should I not count their death or their right to life on account of them not being human? That doesn't sit right with me. 

I’ve always preferred not to think. It's harder now, turning a blind eye pretending bad things aren't happening. I want to be a good person. I think I am one, deep down. It might be time to act like that too.

# BAZ

I have difficulty remembering things. For instance, I am not quite sure what day today is or if I've eaten yet. I am not hungry though. Perhaps I've already done that. 

So much seems off lately. Snow isn't an exception. 

First of all, for whatever reason, it appears that we’ve become _friends_. That is baffling on its own. 

Furthermore, Snow seems to have trouble with his memory. He skips ahead in the novel. I don't truly mind that. I memorized the book years ago, but I’m puzzled about what might be wrong with him.

Truthfully, it is concerning. I've tried asking him but he said I had nothing to worry about. It is possible that Snow is simply skipping out of boredom. 

# SIMON

Baz’s illness is progressing and he starts to forget a lot, small things mostly. It is terrifying regardless. I am attempting to keep a brave face and not scare him, I need to seduce him sooner rather than later.

We’re halfway through the book now. This book also makes me think about us — Baz and me. We've been at each other's throats for so long. 

_“From the very beginning— from the first moment, I may almost say— of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”_

Baz has made me angry with his arrogance on a daily basis. Except I'm starting to doubt it is real. Baz right now is soft and sweet and clutches to my chest when he falls asleep, as if I am the one to bring him comfort. Perhaps this is the real Baz, now that he can’t hide behind his sneers and his hisses.

He is getting worse and I am terrified to lose him.

Baz is dying and I have no idea what to do.

After he falls asleep during the reading, I go to the Catacombs to catch some rats for him. I've been doing that every evening but I don't think he remembers. 

# BAZ

Snow is away when I come to. I've gotten used to his constant presence, to him reading for me. Crowley, I'm too weak for any attention from Snow. I'm getting used to it. _That's alright_ , I think. I won't miss it when it's gone because I will be dead, completely this time.

And Snow won't be shedding any tears. He's doing this out of whatever noble obligations he imagined. Any resemblance of real feelings towards me I know I've only dreamed up. It's the fever messing with my head.

I haven't showered today yet, not properly anyway. I had a quick wank earlier and only had enough energy to rinse myself off a bit. I'm not even wearing pyjamas, just my dressing gown. It was too much of a bother to actually get dressed.

And right now I'm feeling very weak. I'm also thirsty and moody and still hard, too hard. 

Snow bursts into the room with a paper bag.

“Baz, you're awake.”

I'm so thirsty I smell blood. I want to snap at him but I might be out of practice. Instead, I whisper hoarsely, “I am.” I need to feed before I go insane. I thought I would die before. Why am I not dead? 

Snow comes over to me and hands me the bag. 

“What’s this?”

“I've caught a few rats for you,” he offers in lieu of an explanation.

He did that for me? I don't want him to know how much that means to me but I do let out as calmly as possible, “Thank you.” 

“Don't watch,” I tell him but Snow just won't leave.

“I don't mind.”

I want to snarl and say that _I_ mind. But I don't, not really. I am simply worried he’ll be disgusted with me. 

A few rats turn out to be over a dozen. I drain them in less than half an hour with Snow sitting next to me. He doesn't look disgusted — he’s smiling at me. I am probably hallucinating that.

“I need to brush my teeth,” I confess after I put all the carcasses back into the bag. 

“I’ll help you,” he says and takes the bag from me. He then opens the window and throws them all down in the moat. The merwolves will pick on the bones.

“Thank you,” I say once again, for helping me, for not looking disgusted even though I am quite sure this is nothing but a mirage. My mind must be too far gone.

# SIMON

When we're back from the en suite, I settle next to Baz on his bed, pick up the book and continue reading. It's become our routine. 

The closer I get to the end the more I watch him out of the corner of my eyes. Baz has been looking at me when I read. 

_Elizabeth’s spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr. Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. “How could you begin?” said she._

_“I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?”_

I can see Baz’s lips move, he knows the text by heart. He’s looking at me and my heart skips a beat when reading this line. 

_“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”_

By the time I'm done there hasn't been any mention of Simoné Bennet. Truthfully, I started suspecting it was all bollocks halfway through the first few chapters. I just wasn't sure or possibly couldn't let myself believe in such a thing. Especially since he has not reacted to my flirting in any other way than locking himself in the en suite, wanking.

Nevertheless, as the book is finished and Baz’s demeanour being the way it is, I am convinced that he feels something towards me. I think Baz was speaking about me that time when he mentioned ’Simon’. 

Why else would he make up such an elaborate lie? There's only one way to find out.

# BAZ

Snow closes the book, lays it on the nightstand and turns to me, ”I fancy you. Do you fancy me?”

For a moment I'm not sure if I heard him correctly. This can't be happening. Then my suspicion sets in motion.

”Is this—” and I can't believe I'm asking _him_ this question, ”—a part of your plot?” I may be very sick and at times not fully conscious but I've noticed all the rest he's been doing (even though I assumed most of it was a hallucination.) He's been kind to me. I still don't know why. It can't all be about our truce. I do remember that part at least. 

”Fuck no, Baz. I really do fancy you,” he almost shrieks and I believe him. I always believe him.

Snow adds softer now, ”I’d want to go on a date with you first, but we might need to do other things before that.”

No, it is too good to be true, I must have misheard somehow. 

”What?”

He keeps going, looking at me wearily.

“I want to go out with you.” My face must look surprised so he adds, “Because I like you. A lot. I’d like to spend time with you. Like a boyfriend.”

“We’re enemies,” I say as coldly as I can. Snow knows this. He doesn't want me.

His hand twitches and he frowns. 

“I know,” he says. “What I’m saying is that I think we should stop doing that, and start being boyfriends. If you want to be."

“You have a girlfriend,” I remind him in case he forgot. (I hope he can't hear the jealousy in my voice.) I haven’t — he’s been parading her in front of me for years. He's been breaking my heart every day. I don't know what game he's playing. It isn't funny.

Snow’s face lights up and he looks happy all of a sudden. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he tells me cheerfully. “I broke up with Agatha because I want to be with you.” He's beaming now and for a moment I stop breathing altogether. 

Simon Snow just said he wants to be with me, to go on a date with me, to be my boyfriend. He says he fancies me, but I still find it hard to believe.

And yet here he is, saying all those things. Do I dare to hope?

Simon is still looking at me. Oh, I suppose he's waiting for an answer. 

Alright, if what is happening is true, I need to give him a proper answer, yet not too emotional. Can I keep my cool, I wonder.

”I’d like that,” I say softly, without avoiding his eyes even though I am absolutely terrified.

”Which part?”

I take a deep shattered breath. 

”All of them,” I confess. A beautiful wide smile spreads on his face and when he reaches for my hand, I take it. His hand feels nice against mine — warm and lovely. I've felt some parts of Snow on me when he helped me to get to the en suite and back. It's different now. I know he wants this, wants me.

”Um- I know, in order to save your life, we need to have sex now,” he turns the loveliest shade of scarlet when speaking and I feel compelled to lick his blush. (I don’t, I have some self-restraint left.) “But does this mean I can kiss you first?”

I'm worried I’ll scare him off with my overwhelming love. He fancies me, there's still a long way to go to _love_. So I try to sneer, still unsuccessfully: ”You may.”

He chuckles and leans in.

# SIMON

I lean into Baz. I can feel the cool silk of his dressing gown and the cool silk of his skin against me.

My hand cups his cheek and Baz sighs. It's a beautiful sound and it takes my breath away.

I feel nervous for the first time ever, like I can explode not with my magic but inside my heart. I get to kiss Baz, finally after all these years.

I brush my lips against his and his eyelids flutter. It's beautiful, _he’s_ beautiful. I want to remember this moment forever. 

# BAZ

Snow’s lips are hot against mine, but soft, as if he’s cherishing this — cherishing _me._

I have no idea what I'm doing. I’ve never kissed anyone before. (I was afraid I might bite.) And I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone but him. (I _will_ bite eventually, but I won’t hurt him.)

When his tongue slides over my lips I part them, welcoming him in with all the desperation I've been carrying around for him for years. I want any part of Simon inside me, I also want to be inside him. I want _everything_. 

He's exploring my mouth tenderly and I think I'm swooning. I know I have a fever and my body is weak, yet I'm fairly sure I am indeed swooning. Snow is that good with his tongue. That makes me wonder if he’s capable of performing other deeds. 

Snow is clearly an expert kisser. He’s doing this nice thing with his chin. Moving it up and down. Tilting his head. Pushing me back even further.

I don’t try to mimic him and simply enjoy.

# SIMON

Baz is so lovely. I get to see more of him now. The dressing gown is falling open and it’s almost completely off one shoulder. I lean in and start kissing his collarbone and his shoulder. I want to kiss every inch of him. 

He moans softly, “ _Simon_ ,” and I lose my mind completely. Baz called me by my first name and he was conscious this time.

Everything about this moment is perfect. He's too beautiful, he tastes too good. He’s all I ever wanted. I kiss every part I can reach without letting go of him, my arms around his back. I know Baz needs support but my own body is giving up. I feel as if my magic is shimmering on the edge of me needing to get out. I can't think except for one coherent thought — I need to hold on to Baz.

# BAZ

Eventually, my body is too weak to stay up and I end on my back and Simon climbs on top of me. 

This is better, easier for me. Carefully, I lick his lip and he moans, bloody _moans_. That is the most wonderful noise I've ever heard. Is Snow trying to kill me? 

Loving him is the most extraordinary feeling I've ever experienced. I thought it was going to destroy me. Yet now, while pressed into Simon, I start reevaluating that notion.

His arms end up on my hips while I take him by his shoulders. _I'm never letting you go, Simon Snow_ , I think and start licking into his mouth. 

I'm not as good as Snow is, but he doesn't seem to complain. Instead, his grip on me tightens. That's when we both buck into each other. He growls and kisses me deeply, hungrily. I'm giddy with excitement, tagging him closer to me, to feel more of him, _all_ of him.

Snow is rock hard. I've been hard, myself, constantly since this illness started. No amount of wanking helped. Snow exhibiting his arse and his cock in front of me haven't helped either. I assume that was his grand scheme. (Yes he's better than me. I almost caved.)

We need to do this. However, as the realization hits me, I also remember how I haven't showered yet. 

Despite it being the last thing I want, I pull my mouth away from his. ”I need to take a shower first.” My voice sounds hoarse and low and embarrassed. 

”I'll help you, if…” Simon bushes, ”If you want.”

You'd think I would try to maintain some level of self preservation. Instead, my voice sounds soft and in love while my traitorous lips smile as I answer, ”I do.”

  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

# BAZ

I know we're going to see each other nude very soon and my dressing gown isn’t leaving much to the imagination. I feel anxious regardless.

I drop on the edge of the tub, unsure of what to do. I want to undress him. Unfortunately, I'm a bit too weak for that. And perhaps he wouldn't want me to.

Even though I've already seen him naked, courtesy of the towel incident, I am nervous. As Simon starts shedding his clothing at rapid speed, I lower my gaze and feel my cheeks burn. Those rats sure came at an inconvenient time, even if I needed to feed. It’s still nerve-wracking.

Simon must have noticed my blush. ”You don't have to look away.” His voice is soft and I look up. I watch him tugging his shirt over his head. It's quite the scene and it leaves me breathless.

I've seen him without a shirt before. And yet this time it takes on a whole new meaning. 

When he's fully nude and gorgeous, Simon reaches for me, “I can help.”

I nod, not trusting my voice being steady as he helps me out of my dressing gown. (Not sure I needed the assistance but who am I to decline the offer.)

He’s sliding it off my shoulders, caressing my skin with his fingertips and a pleasant shiver goes down my spine.

# SIMON

We get into the shower together. The bathtub isn't really made for two people, but we make do.

I turn around so Baz is under the spray. He’s bracing himself against the wall, his head resting on the tiles. “Baz, can I— ?”

What am I supposed to say exactly? ‘I want to wash you’ sounds stupid, except that’s exactly what I’m offering to do. I want to help him. 

I take a deep breath, “Is it alright if I help you with... the shower?”

Baz lifts his head and turns towards me. “It is,” he says and it comes out shaky. I think he might be nervous too. 

I’m not exactly sure how to do this. I’ve never washed anyone before, (if one doesn’t count me using the flannel on Baz a few days ago).

One thing I do know is that I felt much better and calmer (above waist) when Baz and I kissed. So I start by leaning into him and placing a soft peck on his lips. 

Baz sighs and chases my lips with his. I wrap my arms around him from the side since he is still lightheaded and I’m worried he might fall down. 

I feel better immediately and if the soft moans coming from Baz are any indication so does he.

When we finally pull apart, I suggest, “You can lean against the wall again and I’ll take care of our shower.” 

A beautiful dusty pink blush colours his cheeks again and not for the first time I’m left baffled how I’ve never understood that Baz is affected by me as much as I am affected by him. 

I start with his hair, massaging his scalp a bit to release any tension he might have. I manage to start off with his shampoo and not the conditioner because I actually do know the difference. I just never bother to use any myself. 

My appearance has never truly mattered to me. Doing anything at all about my clothing, my hair, my looks in general makes me feel like a tit, like I’m trying too hard. 

I guess I should start doing at least something from now on. Baz is my boyfriend now and if he looks exceptionally fit, then I might need to try harder myself.

When I hear a hitch high in his throat, I first assume that I accidentally got shampoo in his eye. Except it isn’t that. I think he might be crying. 

“Baz, what’s wrong?” Is it his illness? Is he getting worse? 

# BAZ

Simon is currently washing my hair and instead of simply enjoying the sensation of his hands on me I start sobbing. I can’t be sure if these are tears of joy or if I’m simply worried that whatever dream or illusion I’m experiencing might end at any moment.

“I’m simply a bit lightheaded,” I reassure Simon with my half truth as I try to rein in my tears. I take a deep calming breath and I turn my head towards him. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

He does look worried — for me, _my_ wellbeing. That is a foreign notion and almost throws me into another crying fit. Simon embraces me, his arms reassure my whole being. I turn around and lean in to him, his warmth and his kindness. He’s shorter than I am so I tilt my head down and rest my forehead against his.

“Do you want to sit down?” He offers, his voice filled with softness. It’s directed at _me_.

I know you think I am being ridiculous for stating out the obvious over and over again. Well, if you’ve ever spent seven agonising years in love with your enemy, a person who hated you the most, you _would_ understand. 

I sniff, hoping Snow won’t notice and pull myself back to look at him. “I think I can manage when I am in such capable hands,” I give him the best smirk my trembling lips can muster at the moment and hope Simon will kiss me again. He does and takes my breath away again.

# SIMON

I would prefer to keep snogging but Baz is struggling to stay up and I don’t want him to exhaust himself too much.

So I eventually have to break our kiss in favour of showering.

When I’m done carefully rinsing his hair, I pick up a flannel. I damp it with water before applying his shower gel on it. Then I put my free hand on Baz’s hip, to steady him. I curl my other arm around him and start gently moving in circles around his chest, before continuing onto the rest of his body. 

I can feel every curve of him, every muscle, every bit of soft flesh. I am trying to be respectful of Baz and help him. Nevertheless, it's far from an easy task since he’s hard as I am.

My cock is hard as a rock and is currently unintentionally poking against his bum. 

Baz’s cock is hard too. I can not only see it, but feel it too. It starts off innocent enough. His hand is on mine, the one that is holding to his hip, our fingers brushing softly against each other, nothing further than that.

However as the washing progresses and my hand slips closer to his cock, Baz’s breathing grows ragged in an entirely different manner. 

“Do you…um…” I want to ask him, to make sure that he’s comfortable. But it’s well… I've regressed back to stammering. “Your _cock_ — ” Merlin, I’m embarrassing myself. “—I mean…”

Baz tilts his head back, the curve and the muscles of his neck are beautiful. Baz also has a strong jaw I need to kiss. I need to kiss him everywhere.

He’s so close to me when he murmurs, “I want you to.”

The plan is to help him wash, except I linger on his cock and Baz isn’t helping me get back to the task at hand. Instead, he gasps, “Yes… Simon…”

That goes straight to my cock, which is currently swaying against him, as my hand pulls on his.

By the time Baz starts moaning deeply and arching his back into me, there is no turning back. 

My hand moves along his shaft, faster now as Baz’s hand still holds mine, clutching tight as he moans more deeply. Every noise coming from him hits me like a wildfire. I want to make him feel good.

What I should have been thinking about is how exhausting this is to Baz. In the next moment his legs buckle and I catch him from falling just in time.

“Sorry…,“ he mumbles weakly.

“No, it’s my fault. Let's get you seated in the tub, yeah?”

Baz smiles at me, “Alright.”

# BAZ

Simon helps me get situated against the wall. It’s not cold. The room is filled with hot steam and Snow himself radiates warmth as nothing else ever could. 

I know we need to be done with this shower and move to the room. I do know that. My cock — not so much.

# SIMON

When Baz is securely seated on the edge of the bathtub, with his back against the wall, I get down on my knees, fully prepared to go back to washing him. 

Except, he’s still rock hard. The way Baz is licking his lips while looking at me makes me think he isn’t interested in the shower either.

His cock is practically poking in my face. I get to see it up close for the first time. Baz has a beautiful cock — lean and pale, with a hint of grey, just like the rest of him. I never knew why grey is my favourite colour. I do now. 

There is one vein, darker than the rest of his cock going all the way from the base. I want to swipe my tongue over it. I want to lick every part of him. I want to taste him.

“Baz,” I hesitate as I brush my hand against his hip. “May I— “ I take a deep, shuddering breath and just come out and say it, “—taste you?”

Oh, Merlin, that was difficult to get out somehow. Words _are_ difficult, especially for me, especially while talking about a blowie. That’s not the kind of conversation I’m used to having. (Ever.)

# BAZ

Aleister Crowley, Snow is offering me a blow job.

I am still lightheaded and this isn’t the most comfortable position for my arse, sitting on the edge of the tub for an extended period of time. Will it be an extended period of time, I wonder. 

The possible discomfort for my derrière notwithstanding, there is not a chance in hell I’ll ever decline the prospect of Simon’s mouth around my cock.

I am not accustomed to the language of flirting. (With the only experience in flirting being me putting curses on Snow which probably doesn't count.)

What my brain conjured is the following: “I’m not sure it’s wise to let a good erection go to waste.”

That was the most idiotic response I could ever have given. I am a complete embarrassment to my last name.

Fortunately, Simon doesn’t call me a moron to my face. Instead, he chuckles and leans in closer to my cock. I’m throbbing with anticipation.

# SIMON

Truthfully, it makes everything easier for me, knowing that Baz is also nervous. Not because I want him to be. But it’s better that we’re in this together. Then whatever I might say, that isn’t smart or fitting enough, isn’t as bad. It takes the pressure off.

I get situated between his legs, holding to his hip still and lean in.

My lips move towards him and I kiss him on his cock. I have to — he looks fantastic.

Then I do what I wanted to from the beginning, I lick the deep vein on him from the base up. 

Baz is leaking precome and I swirl my tongue around, tasting him. He lets out a soft moan.

I’ve never done it before so I wasn’t sure what to expect, exactly. I just knew I wanted to.

It’s amazing though — the feel of him on my tongue and the flavour. A bit salty and very Baz. I’ve been kissing him so much I am already familiar with how his skin tastes — luscious. His precome is not an exception. It’s more so. There are subtle hints of something spicy. I wonder if it’s because Baz is a fire magician. That could be it.

When I finally take him in my mouth and start sucking him off, I notice Baz reaching for my head.

“May I?” He asks me uncertainly.

Of course, I want him to touch me. I always want that. Instead of giving him an actual answer, I nod, not wanting to let go of his cock.

Baz buries his hand in my hair and I feel his fingers on my scalp, scraping softly.

It makes it even better somehow. _Us_ giving each other pleasure. 

Baz is swelling in my mouth, moaning softly and he was already hard before I even touched him. I enjoy the feeling — that it's me who’s making him feel good. 

I’m not going fast since I have a sneaking suspicion I might gag and that’s not something I want. 

So I give myself all the time I need to slowly slide my mouth over him and stop when I need to kiss down his length instead. I love kissing Baz’s cock almost as much as I love kissing his lips. 

I've never done this before and based on his moans and gasps neither has he, unless I'm that good the first time (which I doubt very much.)

His cock is gorgeous and perfect just like the rest of him. (Not a surprise.) 

The way it’s tilted, completely defying gravity is captivating. I'm convinced that Baz’s cock is capable of putting me under his thrall. (I'll go more than willingly.)

My hand is at his base squeezing gingerly as I lick and suck him. Whenever I lick his tip at a certain angle, Baz’s breathing catches and he starts panting. 

“Simon…” he moans and I feel him tugging on my hair enthusiastically, as if he can’t help himself. Baz just called me by my first name again and that makes this whole experience even better somehow. 

The way he sounds — satisfied; it's incredible. 

I want that — want him ecstatic from pleasure. I had no idea I was capable of doing that, especially to someone as beautiful and refined as Baz. 

# BAZ

I still haven't managed to get over the fact that Simon wants me to be his boyfriend. I'm too busy to contemplate much on that at this moment.

The way Simon looks when he swallows my cock is practically impossible to describe. He’s igniting the most dangerous fire inside my belly and my heart with this vision. 

All I want is to tell him how much I love him. I know it’s far too early for that. I’m still not entirely sure any of this is truly happening. 

How can I be this lucky? Am I dead and gone to Heaven? I doubt they’d let me in. Unless there was some kind of amnesty passed that I’m not familiar with. 

What I’m trying to say is that all of this — Simon asking me to be his boyfriend, him currently sucking, very enthusiastically I might add, on my cock— it’s too good to be true. 

The way his cheeks hollow as if he wants more of me — all of me. The way he hums, bloody _hums_ , around _my_ cock.

I’m trying not to tug on his curls too much and enjoy the feel of them. His hair is thicker than mine and curlier and it’s so soft to the touch. (However, it wouldn’t hurt him to use a hair mask once in a while.)

It might be safe to assume that Simon Snow hasn’t given a blowjob before today. Yet he seems to enjoy it a lot — enjoy me a lot. Which convinces me more than anything that I was wrong all these years about him being straight. 

I know you might think it’s odd for me to be contemplating this while he’s currently sucking me off. It’s not as strange as you might think. I’m simply thinking ahead. 

Surely, it’s not unreasonable to assume that Simon might be interested in simple experimenting. Then when the sight of another bloke’s cock or taste for that matter, will hit him for real and it might make him uncomfortable and he would lose his interest in me alongside his erection.

And yet, Simon is just as hard as he was during the shower when I felt his rock hard trunk pressed into me. 

I wouldn’t mind experiencing all the richness of his tawny cock with my palate. I wouldn’t dare to do it now, I’m still too thirsty. I will need to bite him first and it sure won’t be on his cock. I’d die first than ever let that happen. 

# SIMON

Eventually, now that I’m getting used to him, I try to get as much of his cock as I can. All the years of stuffing my mouth might have paid off after all. 

Baz is pulling on my hair, with my name slipping his luscious lips on repeat. “Simon, yes…” ”Oh, Simon…”

His cock is smooth flesh and perfection. Everything a bloke could ask for. By now I’m taking him effortlessly in my mouth, lavishing in the overly silky texture as he’s sliding off my lips.

He tries to warn me before he comes but I need to taste him, I need him inside of me in every way. 

Baz tilts his head back and lets out an actual groan as he orgasms.

I was slightly worried that I might not enjoy it as much as his precome, maybe it’s too spicy, I wouldn’t know. However, Baz tastes delicious. Which, again, isn’t a surprise. He’s Baz.

I'm licking around his cock not wanting to miss any part that is him.

I'm hoping it will get the edge off for him. I'm also hoping he’ll be less self conscious. Baz is more nervous than I am. He's not as confident as I always thought him to be. 

Baz hasn't kissed anyone before me, I'm pretty sure of that fact. He's amazing and his kiss was the best thing to ever happen to me, I'm just pointing out facts. 

Which makes me think that he probably hasn't had sex with anyone either. Unless he walks around fucking people without kissing them. Except that doesn't sound likely since Baz himself told me how he wants to feel something for the first person he has sex with. That must mean he hadn't done it before.

He must fancy me a lot then, which is a good start. Overtime he might fall in love with me. 

* * *

“There’s a spell for more through cleaning,” Baz suggests after we're done with the actual shower. “Only if you want to, if you’re comfortable with that.”

He is probably worried because it’s such a private area. I don’t mind because it’s Baz. I’ve recently realized that I am and have been, for years, more comfortable around him than anyone else.

And well our private areas are going to be involved in this whole process so there is that too. 

# BAZ

Snow doesn't like when people cast spells on him. I am worried I’ll make him uncomfortable. Yes, you are right that technically us making love (I stand by the name) is far more intimate than a simple spell.

Except it really isn’t. Touching someone with one’s magic creates a certain intimacy in itself. Simon wasn’t raised in magic. It must be even more significant for him.

I am beyond surprised when Snow smiles at me and it’s genuine, “I am… comfortable I mean. You can do it.”

# SIMON

“Just wait here, I’ll get your wand,” I offer. It’s on the nightstand. 

“Thank you,” Baz takes it from me as I return and casts the spell. 

I don't think his magic is strong with him being this sick. Regardless, I still feel it. (He's powerful even now.) Baz’s magic is full of heat. I can feel it in my whole body and I want _more_. 

“I’ve never felt like this before,” I confess and blush, even though what we were doing earlier should warrant more embarrassment. Except him doing this — using his magic on me — seems monumental somehow, as if we’re connected. 

It sounds strange since I’ve felt other people’s magic on me before. There is no bond that connects people when you cast a spell on someone. Yet when it’s Baz, something is different. It means more.

“Did I hurt you?” Baz asks and a frown shadows his face.

“No. I liked it actually — a lot.”

I know he’s trying not to smile for some reason. I can clearly see that. I reach for his hand and he takes it. I pull him up to his feet carefully so we can leave the en suite. 

Instead of getting back to our room, we start snogging in the middle of the washroom. My arms encircle Baz around his back, both for support and because I need to be constantly touching him. 

He’s making the most beautiful noises into my mouth, while his hands are around my neck, pulling me closer. When Baz starts brushing the hairs on the nape of my neck, as he continues licking into my mouth, my own legs almost give up on me.

Without breaking our kiss I start carefully leading him back to our room.


	8. Chapter 8

# SIMON

We’re on the bed now, snogging — Baz’s bed. I’m not sure how we ended up here, but we did. I know he is the one who’s sick and has the excuse of a dodgy memory. It’s just since our first kiss, I haven’t been paying too much attention to my surroundings. All I can think about is how Baz and I are snogging; how we’ve done so much already and there’s more coming; how much I want that all. I want _him._

“Are the lights too bright?” I ask since Baz seemed to have been squinting and blinking a lot earlier.

“Not to me,” he gives me a long wary look, “Do you want them off?”

# BAZ

I’m worried he’s regretting it already, that he came to his senses and doesn’t want a bloke. Or a vampire. He doesn’t want _me_. It’s easy to think that way since I myself haven’t realized this can be a reality yet.

I keep blinking and wondering when this vision my mind has conjured will turn into a bitter truth in which there is nothing but hatred towards me in Snow’s heart.

# SIMON

“No, I’d rather see you,” I confess and hope he doesn’t think I’m being creepy. I do want to watch him and what we’re doing. I’m not embarrassed. I am nervous though. 

# BAZ

Well, this isn’t quite what I’ve expected. I’m at a loss for words. Regardless, I don’t want to spook him.

There is an impending need for subtlety of my feelings. I’ve revealed too much already.

# SIMON

Baz cocks his head at me and smirks, “I hope you’ll enjoy the show then.” 

I feel my cheeks burn and still manage to mumble, “I know I will.” 

Baz is blushing too, even if his isn’t as prominent as mine. 

“So how are we going to do this, then?” I ask. I know the basics yet I have zero experience.

Baz swallows and clears his throat. It still comes out breathless and tentative.

“I’m assuming you haven’t had intercourse with another man before.”

“No,” I answer. By now I am more convinced than ever that neither has he. Baz looks shy, just like I do.

“Neither have I. We need to take it very slowly and you need to be very relaxed.” 

It seems my deduction skills paid off. Not that it matters if he had sex before. It’s just after reading Baz wrong for so many years, I’m relishing in this newfound understanding. 

“Okay,” I nod. “No problem.”

“So, I suggest,” he continues quietly. I hear his voice break a bit though, “that we—”

I take his hand and give it a light squeeze. It’s easier for me to just do things rather than talking about them. I’ve experienced that first hand in the washroom when I could hardly tell Baz anything and was stammering through our conversation. 

Baz is at least not avoiding my gaze, so I smile and hope it’ll coax him to go on. I watch him swallow, “You or I,” he begins again and holds tighter to my hand, “should give you an initial orgasm while I dilate your anal passageway. Then, if everything’s gone to plan, we proceed to the required form of penetration. Does that make sense?”

All of this sounds too clinical and I keep wondering if Baz is reciting from a book he read about sex. Are there books about sex? 

If there are, he probably read all of them. Baz values knowledge above all. It stands to reason that he’d educate himself on this topic as much as he does with Greek or Magic Words. Possibly even more since this is such a sensitive subject.

“I think you’re saying you’re going to finger me while you or I bring myself off,” I speak slowly. “Then, if I’m loose enough, you can— “ I almost say ‘make love to me’ which might be too early for that. 

“Enter you,” Baz offers helpfully. I guess that word could work. 

“Yeah and if not, we have to do something else,” I say and wait for confirmation. ”Right?”

“Precisely. I have everything we need in the nightstand.” Baz pulls out the drawer and starts rummaging around. I wonder what is everything exactly? It sounds like a lot.

Baz takes out a package of condoms, tissues, a bottle of lube and gloves. 

”Don’t worry they are latex-free,” he tells me, although I’m not worried about that. Should I be? 

I don't think we need the gloves since all our other body fluids are mixing already. I wonder if Baz has a kink or if it's because he's too tidy. I took a very thorough shower and he used a spell on me too. 

Baz asks softly, “Shall we get started?” 

“Yes,” I reply and Baz hands me a cushion.

“You need to put this under your bum, lie down and draw your knees up.”

He's been reading up on this. I don't think that's the kind of knowledge that people speak of during social gatherings.

I nod and do as he says. Except I pull him towards me and snog him until we're both less anxious and more turned on. 

# BAZ

Simon’s lips taste of cinnamon and honey. I've decided that could be the best description. They are soft, sweet and delicious. And they are capable of making my brain stop spinning out of control. 

When we break apart, I see his pupils are blown wide and there is nothing but lust in his gaze. He wants this, wants me. 

Simon is my boyfriend and I am going to _make love_ to him now.

Truthfully, it's still hard to comprehend. Yet I am doing my best to hope and believe in this to be true.

I pick up the glove with much less anxiety than before and carefully pull it onto my hand.

# SIMON

While Baz busies himself with gloves and lube, I Iick my palm and give myself a few experimental pulls. 

I would have prefered him to do it honestly. It’s so much hotter when it’s Baz doing things to me. However, that is exactly what he is about to do. I don’t want him to overwork himself.

Moreover, I hope watching me will get Baz out of his head. 

# BAZ

I might have over-lubed my finger. Which isn't a problem, simply embarrassing. 

My gaze is fixed on Snow’s arse, his cock and his hand moving — it’s mesmerising and makes me completely stupid. I want to do that to him. I want to do _everything_. Regardless, there is a need for concentration on the task at hand first.

I am going to finger him. That’s a dream come true in itself. 

Even my overly vivid imagination couldn’t have constructed such a beautiful fantasy — Simon lying on his back, naked, flushed and wanking, as he awaits me to touch him. 

Snow picks up the pace and his teeth start digging into his lower lip. I could die now and I would be both happy and grateful.

With every bit of resolve and control left in my body I am willing my hand not to shake as I gently press against Simon’s puckered hole. 

# SIMON

I twitch when Baz touches me. I knew he was going to do it. It still took me by surprise somehow.

He flicks his eyes at me, full of concern. “Is that all right?” 

I swallow because I’m nervous, “Yeah.”

“How about this?” I can feel his finger sliding in, slowly. It’s not unpleasant. However, it is a bit weird at first. By the time his whole finger is in it’s better somehow and an inadvertent squeak slips from my mouth. It’s embarrassing more than anything else, except Baz freezes and he looks terrified. 

“Simon?” He's frantic already before I get to answer. 

“It’s OK,” I reassure him. “Keep going.”

Baz hesitates, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I…” I am not an expert on speaking on intimate topics, or feelings. In this case I have to in order to soothe Baz. “I like it. Please continue.”

He smiles and does just that. Baz pulls his finger back and pushes back in. It doesn’t take long before it feels good, really good, especially when he starts curling his finger inside my arse. That makes my whole body follow after him and my mouth unleash the most obscene noises. 

Baz looks beautiful with his hand in my arse. The vision of him makes me dizzy. I’m pulling on my cock faster now while watching him. I need _more_.

# BAZ

I’ve finally managed to tear my eyes from Snow’s cock and his arse and lift my gaze to his face. 

He’s looking back and my breath hitches while his eyes are piercing mine as easily as a flame through an oil field. 

Perhaps that doesn’t sound romantic to you. However, I’ve always had an affinity for fire.

Simon Snow is the only one who has that kind of flame and is more than capable of torching me completely. It’s in his eyes and his hands, his breathing and his scent. It’s everything that makes him Simon. He _is_ fire.

Snow’s magic has never been of much importance to me. The only power of his I was ever obsessed with was the one he has over me. 

I do appreciate the scent of his magic though. The smoke that once suffocated me is now filling me with pleasure. 

Snow’s magic is calm at the moment. All the same, I can still sense it on him and his blood. As Simon continues stroking himself I can also smell his precome — musky, heady. It makes my mouth salivate for him.

# SIMON

It feels incredible what Baz is doing. I do really need more though.

“Baz,” I call after him and I might have startled him some. He’s been staring on my cock, licking his lips almost if it has hypnotised him. I think it’s a good sign. I’m affecting him just as much as he’s affecting me.

“You can put more in. If you like.”

# BAZ

Of course, I do. I crave to do just that, to feel Simon and to fill him with every part of me.

First I lean in and kiss the soft flesh of his inner thighs. He trembles at that. “I like that too,” it comes out as a breathless whisper.

“How about this?” I inquire as I swipe my tongue around one of his moles, he has several on his legs and hips and I want to lick them all. 

“Keep going,” he mumbles panting as I lick another mole and crook my finger inside his delicious hole.

I press the tip of my other finger against his entrance and slide gently. I'm going very slow. Even though Simon _is_ relaxed, I don't want to spook him. All of this is new to him. Technically it is to me as well and I'm terrified to hurt him even though I've done it on myself countless times. It's different when applying pressure on someone else though... 

# SIMON

When Baz pushes a second finger in I roll my hips into him and gasp. It doesn’t take long before I’m begging for more.

# BAZ

He’s taking a third finger, swallowing them whole with his delicious hole and pushing back. 

_Crowley_ , Simon is fucking himself onto my fingers. 

My self-control is plummeting at a rapid speed. The mewls alone escaping Simon’s lips are setting me ablaze.

However, as he starts fucking himself on my fingers, I am terrified that the overwhelming pleasure Simon is giving me by enjoying himself will inadvertently leave me too happy. I am worried that in this instance I might confess my undying love to him. The way he sounds and looks, the way he reacts to my every move makes me love him more. I’ve never felt it this intensely in my life as we are on the verge of forming an unbreakable bond. 

Except I know very well that it is all only in my head and under no circumstances am I to reveal these feelings to him. It’s too early, it will scare him away. 

# SIMON

Every fibre of my body is ecstatic and it’s more than that. It is as if we are connected, Baz and I. It's an extraordinary feeling. And what he is doing. That is just brilliant.

I love Baz’s hands. I’ve decided that. I love everything about them. How strong they are. The roughness on the pads of his fingers. I think I want to pull Baz’s hand into my mouth and suck on each of his fingers until he squirms.

So I do just that. I catch his free hand and put one finger in my mouth. He lets out a groan and a soft, ”Simon…” 

I thrust myself back towards him sliding deeper onto his fingers. A heavy shuddered breath escapes Baz’s lips and that just gives me the courage to keep going, fucking myself on him as fast as I can.

His eyes are almost black now with a thin grey circle left and they are focused on me. Baz is hard again and he looks hungry — for me. 

I enjoy the feel of his fingers inside me and keep imagining the moment he sinks his fangs into my neck and his cock in my arse. As I suck on his finger the anticipation of _more_ is pushing me over the edge. This isn’t enough. I want him, all of him.

# BAZ

Snow is trying to kill me. What he is capable of doing with his mouth to my fingers… Let’s just say I already know of his hidden talents from my first ever blowjob I’ve received earlier during the shower. And yet my finger in his mouth is still taking my breath away. 

I’m worried I look too eager. 

I can promise you that I tried to smirk when Simon reached for me. Instead, I smiled widely and took his hand with my free one. 

Simon sucks on each and every one of my fingers, getting me distracted in the best imaginable way. Obscene noises alongside his name are escaping my mouth. It’s more difficult to stay quiet than you might think. 

After a while, he leads my hand to his cock before visibly fretting, “Only if you want to.”

 _If_ I want to? Aleister Crowley, it’s all I’ve been thinking about. (Well, not all.)

I’m unabashedly staring at his cock with visible hunger in my eyes. Will I chase him away with my desperation?

Sure, we’re boyfriends now. (I am still getting used to the idea.) It doesn’t give me the right to ogle him as much as I want to, or does it? I have no idea how relationships work exactly.

“I want to,” I muster. Hopefully without revealing too much of my love.

I take a hold of his cock — thick and beautiful — it feels luxurious to the touch. He doesn’t even need external lubrication. Simon is leaking precome in abundance.

Simon pants and moans softly as I move my hand along his shaft with the rhythm of his thrusts on my fingers. 

I'm plunging into him, coaxing more of the incredible _and_ loud voices Simon is capable of.

“Oh Baz… yes… ,” he gasps and I would be going mad if I wasn’t there already.

The way he’s looking at me might just kill me right here, right now. As previously stated it’s too good to be true… 

I’m stroking his cock and marvelling at the perfect picture before me. It's beyond what I have even imagined. I’ve spent years wondering what it looks like — his cock. 

Now I know. And not only that. I have felt it with my hand. I am currently touching his cock, pulling on it, looking at it. It's pure perfection; big and muscular. His cock is tawny too, and filled with blood.

There are two moles near the base and as my fingers slide over them, I myself let out a shuddered breath alongside Snow. I’d lick them if I could. Except my eyes longer on that one vein going from the base, deeper and darker; filed with blood.

Blood… My gums are aching. Shame suddenly coils inside me as I become aware of my overwhelming desire to bite him.

This is a beautiful moment that I am going to ruin by revealing my true self — a vampire, a predator, a monster.

Simon will hate me and he will reject me. I wish he would stab me with his sword instead and put me out of my misery once and for all.

# SIMON

It’s brilliant. Everything we’re doing. Everything Baz is doing to me. 

That’s why I am more than a little surprised when Baz gets a distant look in his eyes. As if something is wrong. I stop thrusting myself into his hand and freeze.

“Baz— “ I call after him. “Are you alright?”

He hesitates, ”I need to... bite...you now.”

“You scared me, I thought something happened,” I exclaim in sheer joy.

He gives me a weary look, “It’s not _the_ bite. I’ll need to do it again when we are…” he trails off.

I think he’s nervous. I don’t want him to be. “Please bite me, both now and later,” I’m practically begging him to. It’s because the thought of his fangs inside of me have now become one of my all time favourite fantasies. Is that my kink, I wonder?

Baz’s eyes widen, “Are you sure?”

“I am.”

When Baz leans into me, gracefully as only he can, my whole body starts to tremble with anticipation.

I feel his breath on my inner thigh, a few lingering kisses that are sending a pleasant shiver down my spine. It doesn’t hurt when he bites but it stings a bit at first. Not for long though.

Before I know it, I feel and hear him drinking my blood and it’s better. I stop fucking myself on his fingers since I’m worried it might disturb what he’s doing. However, Baz continues pounding into me and stroking me while he’s sucking my blood. 

It’s so good and I want more. I want his cock inside me. My body is begging for it — for him.

# BAZ

When Simon’s blood fills my mouth, it’s liquid fire and I’ve never been so addicted to a flame as in this moment.

This fire doesn't burn me to ashes — it gives me life. I feel it happening; the pounding of my heart increasing, a haze is lifting from my mind. I _am_ more human now than I have been the last thirteen years.

Simon’s moans make it all even better. I want him in every way. I just want him.

Despite every part of my mind being on the precipice of losing all control, I make sure not to drink too much. I will never hurt Simon. I am already terrified that this is an unforgivable sin against him as it is.

# SIMON

It’s so fucking amazing. I don’t feel weak or lightheaded. I feel really good. 

Frankly, I’d probably let him drain me dry from the sensation alone. Which I know he wouldn’t appreciate hearing. So I bite my tongue and keep moaning his name instead.

“Baz…” I’m not sure if his name has now become a prayer or a curse. Perhaps it’s both and it is my favourite word in the universe. 

My whole body is almost weightless and yet I feel _everything_. Baz’s cool fingers inside me, how good they feel. Not only because I experience an incredible sensation each time he crooks his fingers in a certain way, although that is a big plus. Yet the biggest pleasure of all is that it’s Baz that is touching me — that he is inside me right this moment. 

I’ve wanted him for so long without ever letting myself hope for it to happen or even accepting this want. 

Without realising it myself Baz has become the most vital part of my life. So when he touches me it’s something different entirely. My body comes alive under his hands.

I want him and he turns me on, everything about him does. I never knew that is how it could feel. My cock is throbbing, twitching against Baz’s hand. It is almost as if each part of me is bonding to each part of him. It sounds like bollocks but that is how it feels for me, as we are becoming one being and everything is so much better. 

Baz is increasing the pace and I need that. I need to come, my body is begging for it. I start thrusting into him. Granted, his movements are somewhat less than coordinated and so are mine, though it hardly matters now. It is _that_ good, everything. His fingers in me, his hand on my cock. If I were to die right this moment, I will be dying in nirvana. 

A pleasant shiver goes through my entire body. I thrust in his hand and come with a growl. Which should be embarrassing. But I have growled at Baz before so in a way this is nothing new.

I know he’s done drinking my blood when his tongue flattens on the spot. He licks a few times and places a small kiss. (The book said that a vampire's saliva helps stop the bleeding.)

Despite that, Baz still reaches for his wand and casts **_“Get well soon!”_**.

There’s some blood lingering on his lips — my blood. It turns me on to see him like this after just drinking from me. 

I can’t wait for Baz to do it again.

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

# BAZ

I don’t dare use **Kiss it better** on Snow after having just drank his blood. It’s a family spell. He’d know beyond a shadow of a doubt how deeply in love with him I am. I do kiss his closed up wound and use a different spell instead.

Then I cast **_“Clean as a whistle!”_ ** on his crotch and my hand. I would have prefered to lick his come up. But yet again I was worried of that revealing too much of my true feelings towards Snow. 

I may very well be on my way to becoming as paranoid as he is.

“Are you alright?” I hope Simon isn’t lightheaded, that I haven't taken too much, that the monster in me hasn’t taken advantage of him.

# SIMON

“Great actually,” I tell him and notice his confusion. I reach for him and take his hand. 

“I liked it — the biting,” I have no experience with bedroom talk if I have to be completely honest. This is all very new to me. I still want to say it, so he’ll know and stop looking so worried. 

“It turns me on.” I look into his eyes when I say it even though it’s a bit embarrassing. (A lot.)

A choked huff escapes Baz’s lips, “Aleister Crowley, you can’t be serious.” 

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Not to my knowledge,” he finally concedes and some tension drains from his body.

“And I’m ready.”

Baz flicks his eyes to the package of condoms lying next to us and swallows. I know that technically I am the only one who needs to be relaxed. But I don’t want him to be stressed out.

“Come here,” I drag Baz on top of me and snog him. 

# BAZ

Snow’s lips are capable of many things. With one kiss he manages to make me feel alive and make me forget everything else on my mind. 

His lips are killing every thought except for the sensation of Simon and the love I feel for him.

I’m a bit more bold this time and explore his mouth as deeply as I can. He’s not only letting me. No. Snow is pulling me in, pressing his whole body into mine, moaning into my mouth.

It gives me courage to do more. I caress his cheek and let my lips slip to his jaw.

Simon has three moles on his right cheek. I kiss them and place the softest peck over his left eye where he has another one. 

“They make me look poxed,” he whispers so softly I wouldn’t have heard it if I wasn’t a vampire.

“ _Simon_ ,” I say and look him in the eye, “they make you look beautiful.”

He blushes and he’s lovely like this. (So lovely.) I almost slip up and tell him that I love him.

“I love… your moles,” is what I eventually say. I _do_ love his moles so it’s not a lie; simply a different truth. 

“Come off it,” he chuckles at me.

“There is an entire universe of stars hidden in them,” I say softly, cupping his cheek and carefully caressing next to one of his moles. 

“They are so beautiful, I could get lost in them.”

Then I lean in and kiss one of his moles again. I can see him smiling out of the corner of my eye and wander lower to his neck. I kiss Simon’s neck everywhere I can reach. His blood is whispering to me, inciting me to bite. And I will. 

Just not yet.

There are two moles below his ear, I kiss them too and flick my tongue over them. Which makes him gasp and makes _me_ hard.

I don’t stop and trace every mole on his body my eye can catch, letting myself get completely lost in them. I’ve dreamt about kissing the constellation of moles and freckles on his body for so many years. I make sure to take my time. Simon’s ragged breathing is encouragement enough to keep going. When Simon starts palming himself, my hand finds its way to his cock. “Is that alright?” 

Simon practically squirms, while pressing himself into my palm, “Yeah.”

He’s hard again and all I want is to kiss more of his skin and get him off. That is until my own desires come back to me. Despite the fact that I had an orgasm not an hour ago, my erection is back with a vengeance and is unbearably painful. I’ve also noticed how little strength I have left. My body starts to give up on me slowly. 

Feeling Simon’s skin and his lips have gifted me with the best euphoria I’ve ever experienced. However, the high is giving way for my illness. My gums throb and I need to bite him again — soon. 

“I think we need to keep going,” I confess and hear myself lisp. My fangs just popped and I can’t hide them from Snow.

Is he going to be repulsed by me now that he sees me exactly for what I am? He can’t imagine them away, pretend they aren’t there.

Before my panic escalates, Simon hoists himself up and embraces me in his arms. I clutch his shoulders to steady myself physically and mentally.

He kisses the corner of my mouth. 

“Be careful,” I hiss as his lips move over to my cheek. 

Even though we know that I can’t Turn him with just a bite, I still don’t want him to slice his lip open on them. I don’t want to hurt him. 

“I am,” he answers with a hoarse voice and presses another kiss on my lips. 

“ _Snow_ ,” I snap because I’m too worried. “You aren’t listening to me.” 

He gives me a wide grin, “Never did before. So why start now?”

His strong arms around me, moving in circles on my back and his easy demeanor does calm my nerves down. Possibly this was Simon’s plan all along.

I dare to hope he won’t think less of me for my weakness, that he isn’t going to reject me because of what I am, because of my unholy urges towards him. 

My hands are still shaking so when I reach for the condoms, I drop the package. I am getting to the point of passing out — everything hitting me at once.

“I’ll get it.” Snow picks the package up and opens it himself.

“I might need some assistance and more lube.”

“Ready?” he asks, holding the condom in his hands and I nod. 

He rolls it over me and it’s a tad too painful. My erection is insistent and is craving a release.

I take the bottle of lube from his hand.

# SIMON

Baz sinks onto the mattress, he is paler now. Our prolonged snogging might have been a mistake. It felt incredible though — the kissing and everything that followed after. Him touching me and my body trembling under his touch. 

“How? Where do I need to be?” I ask since I am not exactly sure myself and Baz seems to be well read on the subject. 

“Turn on your side, with your back against me.”

I do as he says and hear the lid of the bottle snap. 

Baz moves closer to me a moment later. 

“I’m ready,” he murmurs as he kisses my shoulder, his hand coming up to rest on my hip. “And you?”

I place my hand on top of his. “So am I.”

He slides his right arm under my waist and pulls me into him. I like that — being closer to Baz. I want him even if I am a bit nervous.

Baz presses against me and the tip of his cock slides between the cheeks of my buttocks. Both of us gasp, from surprise I think. 

I am still turned on but I’m also worried Baz might get spooked and think I don’t want him. (He’s breathing too fast.)

Baz seems to get easily stressed out about most things. Which wouldn’t have been something I believed about him just a week ago.

Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about this — me being the most self confident one between the two of us. I’d prefer him to be more sure of himself. But for now, I will be sure for the both of us.

I take Baz’s hand, the one that is on my hip and bring it to my mouth. I kiss his palm and hear his breathing even out, slowly.

When I place our hands on my hip where they were earlier, “Keep going, please.”

“Tell me if I need to stop,” he cautions me.

“I will,” I promise and push my hips back so he’d know I’m alright. I am — still relaxed and hard.

Baz slides his cock between my cheeks and then he pushes forward. I feel his leg (it’s cold, like the rest of him) sliding over mine. I let out a breath. My body wants him — I want him.

Slowly the head of his cock pops into me. It is a new feeling. His cock is bigger than his fingers. Much bigger. It’s not painful exactly, but not comfortable either. 

I trust him though. I know Baz won’t hurt me. I lean my back into his chest and feel the coolness of him. It steadies me. 

“I’m OK,” I say just in case. Baz kisses my neck before continuing, slowly. Achingly slow. And deep. And rich. And warm. It’s good, really good.

# BAZ

I may never have done this before but I know how to read and I have done just that in abundance. You might say too much at times. Perhaps Simon Snow is not the only person who prefers to be prepared for a mission.

I’m giving him time to adjust to me, “Alright, love?”

Yes, you are correct I should not have said the forbidden word. My foolish heart notwithstanding, this is an intimate moment between two of us. It seems to mean something to us both. I am making love to Simon and he’s holding on to me, whispering and panting my name. How can I not call him _love_?

“Yes,” he whispers and brings my free hand to his lips and kisses it again. Crowley, if this tender display of emotions keeps going on any longer I will be constantly calling him _love_. 

I pull out, just as slow, and press back in again. “Fuck, _Baz_ ,” Simon whimpers and turns his head. I kiss him. It’s an odd angle but we make do. I trail my lips alongs his jaw and move towards his ear so he doesn’t have to turn his head so much. 

“ _Simon_ ,” I murmur and keep kissing his neck and clutching at his chest. 

I’m going to do this slowly and thoroughly. I'm hoping that I have what it takes. I need Simon to enjoy himself. 

# SIMON

This is the best way to die, with Baz inside me. It can’t get better than this.

I'm pretty sure we're making my love. This is how it's supposed to feel I think even though I've never experienced that before. His silky skin is smooth and both cool and hot against my back. Baz's chest is muscular and lean but not bony, he feels amazing to the touch. I want to be pressed into him, to feel him forever.

When Baz angles his hips a shudder goes through my body and I feel as if I might be on fire, the kind I want to live in.

He’s breathing heavily and my own breathing is ragged as well. It's too good what Baz is doing, too bloody good — every part of my body is trembling from satisfaction. 

He’s slamming his hips into my arse and cry after cry flies out of me. It’s so good that for a moment I wonder if it's possible to pass out from pleasure. 

# BAZ

Simon is nothing if not vocal. He must have quite the stamina if that is any indication. When he moans my name, I lose my mind completely. 

His moans and gasps vibrate through my whole body. I echo his sounds with my own.

Simon feels like an inferno against me — I crave it and am willing to be scorched to dust as long as I get to be inside him while his arms are holding on to me and my lips are on his skin, sweaty and delicious. 

Even though we are at an odd angle, I manage to tilt my head just right and kiss his neck and his jaw and finally kiss his lips as he angles his face to me. I almost whisper: I love you, Simon.

Instead, I breathe into his mouth, “You’re so beautiful, Simon.” He kisses me more and more until my thrusts are getting faster and harder and he’s begging me, “ _Harder_.” 

We have to break our kiss for that. Still, despite our body touching in so many places, it’s not enough. I wrap my arm around his chest while the other is holding on to his hips and press myself into him and inside him. My face is pressed into his neck while he’s holding on to my back.

Simon is so hot and the faster I go the more I’m convinced that I will catch fire. 

I did say this will end in flames. If only I knew this is how I would go, I would have courted Simon years ago. He’s thrusting back and I let my hand wander down to his cock and stroke him in the rhythm of my thrusts. 

It’s an incredible feeling. Unfortunately, I am getting weaker and Simon must have noticed it too.

# SIMON

I thought my blood would help Baz enough. However, I’m worried he’ll overexert himself with the way he’s slamming into me.

“Baz, stop.” He stills, his breathing is a bit ragged and not in a good way, he’s tired. I turn to face him as much as possible. He looks worried. “How about— ” I say, not being sure how to explain. “ —I could be on top of you?”

“You want to ride me?” He asks tentatively. 

“If that’s what it’s called,” I look at him. “I am not an expert on gay sex.”

“Could have fooled me.” Baz grins and he looks so good with a wide smile on his face.

“Come here,” I say and hope he’ll pull out and let me do this.

“Alright.” He does, slowly… I miss his cock inside me already.

I take Baz’s hand. I think he’s a bit lightheaded. “Let’s get you seated against the headboard.”

“I can move,” he argues but lets me help him up. Baz is nervous when he’s out of his element. We both are right now. Yet I think it’s worse for him.

“I need more lube,” he says when he’s seated in a comfortable position. 

I reach for the bottle and hand it to him. While he’s busying himself I try to think of the logistics. One thing I know for sure — I need to be on top of him. 

When Baz is done, I climb on his lap and kiss him, properly this time since we are at a much better angle. 

“I like this more,” I whisper into his mouth. “I can kiss you better and see you too.”

Baz smiles again. He’s been doing it so much today — smiling. My heart swells from watching him this way. He looks happy. I love him and I hope to tell him just that soon enough. Not now, it’s too early for that.

He kisses me hungrily; his hand going to my cock and stroking me at a leisurely pace. It feels amazing.

When we pull apart, he says, “You should keep your feet on either side of my hips.”

I do just like he says and relocate; my hips on either side of him too.

“Now what?” I ask even though I think I know what I need to be doing. Except Baz still looks a bit nervous and it usually helps when he feels as though he’s in charge of a situation. (Even if I had no idea he fancied me all these years, I _have_ been paying attention to him, almost exclusively.)

“You need to sink on to me, my cock.”

I lean in, close to his ear, graze it with my lips and whisper, hopefully in a sexy manner, “I can’t wait.”

Baz’s breath hitches so I probably succeeded. 

“I’ll need to lead you in,” he starts and takes a hold of my bum, with his hands on each side.

I slid onto his cock effortlessly, my body still used to him and it’s heaven. An obscene moan escapes my mouth and I don’t even have it in me to feel embarrassed. 

Baz is still holding on to me and I want him to, I want all and any contact between us. However, I don’t require his help. Besides, he is supposed to save his energy.

I brace myself on his shoulders and pull myself up, not too far and slide back down. Baz groans, his head tilts back slightly. It feels incredible and I do it again and again and again. 

“ _Simon_ …,” he moans, still a little weak but very turned on. 

We’re both panting now and it’s so good. Better even. Because I get to see him — with his dusty pink blush and hooded eyes and all the hunger Baz has for me. His hands are practically glued to my bum and I am holding on to him as hard as I can while slamming myself onto him, getting filled with his incredible cock over and over again.

“ _Baz_ …,” I croak out yet another time. His name is all I want to say and Baz is all I want to think about. 

# BAZ

Simon is so beautiful and he moves very gracefully on top of me, sliding on to my cock, taking me all in one swift mesmerizing movement. I don’t need to do anything, not really. 

I move one hand from his bum and start stroking him. It’s easier to get into the right rhythm when it’s the one thing I am in charge of — his cock. It feels incredible to be inside of him and his cock feels so nice in my hand. We match, everything about us does. Simon is breathing heavily as he sinks onto me and jolts up; it’s beautiful to hear and to watch.

Pleasure spreads throughout me and I never loved him more than in this moment — us together moaning and clutching to each other.

I’m getting closer and I know it’s time to bite. My fangs have already popped. 

“Simon,” I speak with a lisp so he must know. Still, I want to say it out loud so he won’t think I am simply taking from him without asking first. “I need to bite you.” 

He smiles at me through another gasp and comes closer. Simon is kissing me now, and it’s so divine I forget for a moment that my fangs are out. I do, however, remember at last and pull away from his mouth and move my lips (with my fangs safely concealed) over his cheek and his jaw.

I trail a few kisses around his neck and give the spot I’ve chosen a few licks. The book said my saliva should increase the pleasure of biting and help heal the wound after as well. Then I sink my fangs into his tender flesh carefully and suck. “Oh Baz… yes… ,” he gasps and I start to believe myself that he is indeed enjoying this.

I’ve spent years wanting to be inside of Simon in any way he’d let me. I thought there was no chance at all. Nonetheless, now I feel him clench around my cock lusciously as his blood is filling my entire being. 

Simon tastes delicious, like brown sugar in a cinnamon roll and a freshly fried bacon with a hint of smoke — _his_ smoke. The kind that is better than his magic, the kind that makes me feel complete and alive. His blood is ambrosia specially crafted for me. I don’t believe in soulmates but if I did, Simon would be mine. 

Everything about him entices me in a manner no one was ever capable of. No one can compare to Simon, to the goodness of his soul, to the rhythm of his heart to the blue of his eyes that are as far from ordinary as one can be. The way he feels inside is putting me out of my misery and bringing me to life all at once. It’s short-circuiting and being renewed, it’s discovering parts of him and myself I never even knew existed. It’s creating a new colour that has nothing to compare with, that’s pure joy, pure satisfaction, pure happiness. That is what making love and tasting Simon’s blood feels like. 

At this moment I know for a fact that none of it would feel this good if I even for a second thought Simon wasn’t enjoying himself. He is doing just that, pulling on my shoulders, thrusting into me, and moaning my name on repeat with a few Normal curse words as a bonus. My hand on his cock has been faltering. It’s hard to concentrate when experiencing this much pleasure. “ _Jesus Christ, Baz_...” escapes his lips as a breathless shudder and I lose my last resolve of trying to prolong this for us both. 

I have never given too much thought to sex, courtesy of being hopelessly in love with Simon Snow — or so I thought. 

Frankly, I assumed it would feel good. If wanking feels great, well… Theoretically it would feel better. Except while getting myself off, my utmost concern was the release, to get myself there — over the edge. 

It’s different with Simon in my arms, when he wants me, when he asked me to be his boyfriend, when it’s real. I’ve decided it must be real. This can not be an illness induced hallucination. I am not capable of such pristine illusions. The feel of Simon. He’s so warm. I could have never imagined that. I don’t have the faculties to do that in my current state. 

Simon is hot against me and every aroma of his is enveloping me in a way I’ve never felt before. The way he clenches his luxurious hole around me, as if he wants to feel more, wants me to fill him completely and I do. I try to thrust into him at the same time as he’s riding me and fill him with all that I am and all that I’ve got. I am trying to pull on Simon’s cock in unison with his moves. I am not sure I am succeeding any longer. However, Simon doesn’t complain. His moans only increase. 

His cock is hard in my hand and leaking precome. I want to taste him. It seems that I am getting greedy and want everything. What can I say, I need all of Simon.

It’s _more_ than sex. It’s so much more. My arm relocates around Simon’s back and I need him closer still. He is clutching to my shoulders, pressing himself against my chest as if he wants each part of us to touch as much as I do. 

“Simon…,” I let out hurriedly as if I can’t get enough of saying his name. I hold on to him and breath him in. “Oh...Simon…” 

I know he doesn’t love me yet. But I am convinced more than ever that he cares deeply for me. It’s Simon’s hold on me, the way he says my name. There is so much there. I am beyond grateful for this gift.

This ecstasy, heavenly pleasure of him safe and sound and moaning from satisfaction of my cock inside him and my arms around him as I taste his blood can not be imagined. It is too good of a fantasy for even my brain to come up with. Everything about his moment is perfect. 

The way Simon gasps, “Baz...” while his hold on my shoulders tightens and he trembles. This is what sex is all about — us together. We’re touching everywhere we can. Our arms are curled around each other, Simon presses himself to me as if he needs _more_.

His warm skin is incinerating every bad thing I’ve ever felt, scorching me clean. All I feel is joy as our bodies move and groan and shiver from pleasure.

What puzzles me the most and makes me the happiest man, dare I say, almost alive, is that it’s my name, always my name that escapes his lips first. 

In this moment Simon is clinging to me in a manner not unlike my own. I am his for an eternity. I’ve always been. Yet as of today it seems more for a reason I can not completely comprehend. There’s more to it. If it is what we are doing or simply my giddiness because I am making love to my boyfriend, the boy I’ve been in love with for years. 

Simon Snow is the person I will always love and today I finally have faith that one day he will love me back. 

As Simon is sliding onto me, I thrust up with my last resolve and I relish in every feeling that is there, both in my body and my heart. 

Everything about him is making me high with happiness. He is so much more than his blood. I love Simon’s soul and his mind. I love everything about him. His arse and his luxurious beast of a cock notwithstanding.

“ _Baz_ , yes… ,” he cries out and I can not contain myself any longer. I shudder against him and inside him. 

I come inside Simon and lick up the stray droplets of blood welling up from the bite wound, “Simon… love…” escapes my lips yet again, even though I’ve been trying not to say that too much as not to overwhelm him with my feelings. 

Hopefully he hasn’t heard. I lick him all around making sure his wounds close up and place a few soft kisses to his skin, my cock settling down inside him.

I feel weightless and happy. I want to stay this way for eternity. Simon kisses my lips even though I’ve just drunk from him. That single deed sends me into a rollercoaster of emotions. I am still getting off my high. Nevertheless, I do remember to check with him, to make sure he is unharmed by me.

“Are you alright, love?” I want to curse myself for yet another slip. I am too concerned about Simon at the moment to have time for that.

“That was...bloody brilliant,” he whispers softly. My hand is still on Simon’s cock. If I could, I’d keep it there forever.

He hasn’t come yet and I redouble my efforts on his cock, pulling on it in a way I’ve noticed he enjoys. Yes, I now know how Simon likes his cock to be stroked. 

I also know how good he feels and tastes and how loud he is when he’s aroused and pleased. Each and every one of those aspects makes my head spin from pleasure. I want Simon to always enjoy himself. I want to give him anything he wants. 

I still want to taste more of him and I hope I’m not too late.

So I take hold of his arse again, steadying him. Slowly and carefully I pull out and heal Simon’s neck with a spell.

He flops next to be against the headboard of the bed — exceedingly hard still. I roll the condom off me, dispose of it into a paper serviette and spell us both clean. It’s not that I mind that we’re a mess. I just simply don’t want any restrictions on our movements. 

“May I?” I ask as I crawl between his legs. 

Snow tries to smirk. (He isn’t very good at it.) “I thought you'd never ask.” 

Finally I get to do this — get my feel of him. I take Simon in my mouth (some of him and use my hand to stroke him too). 

I'm not accustomed to objects of his girth in my mouth. However, what I lack in skill, I make up in enthusiasm. 

Simon’s hands reach for my hair and he pulls. 

“Baz… yes…” he cries between heavy breathing. 

He tastes delicious — savory and sweet. 

I’ve never done this before but I know the basics and after watching Simon sucking me off earlier I picked up a few things that made me feel good. 

His cock is twitching in my mouth as I swirl my tongue over his tip, helping with my hand on his base, stroking him fast and faster.

It doesn’t take long for his orgasm. He’s pulling on my hair, crying out. “ _Baz_ —”

The warning is not necessary. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

He’s radiant — flushed and panting. His eyes are hooded and black, watching me back; burning me alive in the best possible way. 

I watch every move of his lips; how he parts them and how good he looks that way. Simon’s mouth always looks kissable. Yet in this moment there is so much more to him. Pleasure suits him. 

Simon spills in my mouth shuddering against me, in me and I savour him. Just like his blood, his come is salty and sweet with a hint of smoke. Frankly, I couldn’t tell you what I prefer more. I won’t bite him again, of course. That time it was necessary. I don’t want to be a monster. I would never ask him to open up a vein for me. 

He’s lying lazily on the mattress, relaxed with a smile on his lips and I can't look away. 

_Simon Snow, you are absolutely perfect._

I get up towards him and kiss his mouth. I am living a charmed life — too good for this world if I get to kiss Simon Snow, of all people. 

Simon’s arms swing around me, embracing me and I lean into the incredible feeling of being wanted by him. I place another kiss– on his cheek this time. 

“Another shower?” I offer as I look up at him.

Snow smiles and takes my hand, “Yeah.”

I pull him up and we walk to the en suite together.

My strength is back, my body and my mind are back to their normal state. I feel better than ever. 

This time I am the one to wash Simon. 

He kisses me and pulls me to his bed afterwards. I fall asleep with Simon in my arms. 


	10. Chapter 10

# SIMON

I woke up before Baz so I decided it’d be romantic to give him flowers. I did that for Agatha and she said it was the only time she felt appreciated. 

And well, I want Baz to know how much I appreciate him, in case I wasn’t clear yesterday. 

Besides, he called me love more than once. The first time I thought that maybe I’d misheard. After he said it again, I knew. But I was a bit too busy to react more than to push myself harder into him and breathe him in. 

I still can’t believe that Baz loves me. I’m the luckiest bloke on Earth.

Today I will say it back. I don’t want him to believe it’s one sided, because it isn’t.

I gather a pretty bouquet in the Wavering Wood and go back to our room. Baz isn’t here. So I go to the dining hall except he isn’t there either. 

“Have you seen Baz?” I ask Penny who’s already reading something while eating her breakfast. She looks at the flowers and raises her eyebrow at me. (Just like Baz does.) 

“I saw him walking towards the library.”

He probably wants a headstart on his homework because he missed school. It’s not that good for him to study on an empty stomach though.

“Penny, could you hold the flowers while I get some scones?”

Penny sighs and takes them from me. 

I butter several sour cherry scones and put them onto a plate. That isn't working too great so I ask Cook Pritchard for help. She gives me a picnic hamper after I mention it is for Baz and make sure she knows he was sick.

“He’ll be on his feet in no time with a sturdy breakfast,” she tells me and hands me a hamper filled with sour cherry scones, fried eggs, bacon, a pot of tea and two cups. I think Cook Pritchard sealed it all with magic so nothing will spill over.

When I get back to Penny, she looks at me intently.

“Is there anything you want to tell me, Simon?”

It’s not like I’m trying to keep this a secret. I am just not sure how to tell her. With all the possible scenarios of how this conversation can go swirling around my head, I accidentally blurt out “I’m in love with Baz.”

I’m terrified she’ll assume it’s a thrall or a love potion. However, Penny just snorts. “Took you long enough.”

If my jaw could drop to the floor it would. Penny squints at me, “Close your mouth, Simon, or you’ll catch flies.”

I ignore her remark but do close my mouth.

“You knew?”

Penny’s eyes are intimidating when she’s like this — fierce. “Just because Basil managed to beat me top of the class last year does not in any way indicate I’m stupid.”

She must see the confusion on my face. “Everyone knows, Simon. Or at least most of our year.” After a moment she adds, “Neither one of you are very subtle.”

Does it mean Baz and I are the last to know? That does annoy me but honestly I have no time for second guessing anything at the moment. 

I need to get to Baz as soon as possible so he'll finally know I'm in love with him.

“Penny, I have to go,” I tell her and she rolls her eyes at me, shushing me with her hand and goes back to her book.

# BAZ

I wake up alone. Simon is nowhere to be found. For a moment I worry that perhaps I’ve dreamt it all up — dreamt our whole night up. 

That isn’t a valid hypothesis since I don’t feel sick any more. In fact, I feel better and stronger than ever. Must be his blood.

Which also means there is only one possible explanation. Snow regrets it all. He called me his boyfriend and now he doesn't want me that way anymore. 

The copy of Pride and Prejudice is lying on the nightstand. I get dressed hurriedly, take the book and leave for the library. I don’t wish to bump into him in the dining hall, and be reminded of an entirely different kind of bumping and start crying in front of the whole school.

Fortunately, the library is already open. I find a quiet table and try reading some. My all times favourite romance novel is taunting me now and my mind drifts off to Snow. 

The memories of his lips on mine and his naked body will torment me for the rest of my pitiful existence. How good it felt — everything we did. How happy I was when he told me he fancied me, that wanted to _be_ with me.

Did I do something wrong last night? Or is it the monster in me that chased him away? Is it possible that in the light of day he couldn’t stand the idea of being with a dark creature like me? 

I suppose I can’t blame him for that. Nevertheless, tears are welling in my eyes, threatening to spill while my heart and mind are both filled with Simon. I swear I can even smell him. 

Except it’s not an illusion. He _is_ here. I try to compose my face and before I look up.

# SIMON

When I approach Baz he doesn’t look too happy. Is he still sick? 

“Um,” I say. “I, er, brought these for you.”

I slide the bouquet of wildflowers across the table towards him.

Baz looks annoyed and irritated. Does he hate flowers? Is he possibly allergic? None of the books mentioned anything about that. Supposedly he should be immune to all human diseases. 

# BAZ

What is this? Is Snow here to gift me with breakup flowers? Is that what people do? I know fuck all about relationships. The closest I came to one was yesterday when I thought Snow and I were together. 

“Garlic repels vampires, Snow. Not violets.” I empathise; try to sneer and succeed. Thank snakes for this miracle.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a myth,” he says and turns a lovely shade of scarlet. “Also, I’m not trying to repel you.” He gifts me with a shy smile.

Have I misunderstood this whole scenario? At times, I tend to turn to more severe reactions than perhaps is strictly necessary. 

“Oh?” I inquire without revealing too much. I don’t dare to hope. 

I’m just noticing that he’s holding a picnic hamper for some mysterious reason. He puts it on the seat next to him and comes closer. “I thought I could give you flowers since you’re my boyfriend.”

I feel my heart beat faster. _Boyfriend._ Simon Snow is still my boyfriend. I haven’t repelled _him_ with my vampirism and apparent lack of social cues.

Simon reaches out to me across the table, “Can I kiss you?”

I shake my head. _No._

It’s time to stop living in fear. He’s here, still willing to be with me. I can afford to show some part of my desire for him.

I grab him by his tie, and yank him forward over the table towards me. I crave him and I am fine with him knowing just how much.

“ _I’m_ kissing you," I tell him with all the passion I have and then do just that.

After a while, I do come to my senses when I hear soft footsteps not too far. It takes all my willpower to detach myself from Simon’s lips. “Someone is coming,” I murmur against his mouth. I take the flowers from the table while Simon grabs the hamper, leading him silently to the abandoned corner of the library — the one where all the vampire books are stored.

I gingerly place the boquette inside the hamper, which contains breakfast. I look up at Simon and he whispers, “It’s for us.” My heart fills with butterflies. Simon Snow is willing to share his food with me. This might be the most monumental step in our relationship. 

I reach for him, my hands around his waist. One of his hands ends up in my hair (Simon might be partial to my hair) while his other is on the small of my back, going lower and lower. When he gropes my behind I lose my balance out of sheer joy and have to steady myself against the bookshelf. 

Unfortunately, my elbow slips and I accidentally jam it right under and into the wooden wall and knock down several books from the shelf. 

# SIMON

We start picking up all the books and I'm hoping no one heard us.

Just as I am about to put them back on the shelf, one of the books catches my eyes.

I check the name, “It’s a second volume of the book I showed you,” I tell Baz. “Look, there’s more about the ritual.”

Who knows, maybe there could be more helpful information. We need to know if there are more hidden truths about Baz’s vampirism, if we have more to worry about.

# BAZ

“I think we had enough of that ritual for a lifetime,” I tell him. Or at least for the next nineteen years. I don’t dare to say it out loud since I’m not sure we’re there yet. 

He doesn’t put the book down. 

For someone who isn’t overly interested in books, Simon is sure a very thorough reader when it comes to books about vampires. 

“Baz, this is very valuable information,” he says and shoves the book onto me just like he did last time with volume one. I’m not scared this time. Whatever it is I will deal with it head on.

He looks around, leans into my ear and purrs softly, ”According to the book you can bite me whenever you like and I want you to do it.”

I don’t care what it says in the book. Besides, I know he told me this yesterday — that I can bite him again. Regardless, I have no plans on taking advantage of him, even if he thinks he wants it. 

Besides, Simon might change his mind about that. What are the odds that he both wishes to be my boyfriend and likes me biting him. It's simply too good to be true.

” _Snow_ — ” I try to argue.

# SIMON

I like it more when Baz calls me Simon, only I think he can’t do that when he’s stressed.

The issue of biting. That stresses him out. 

”I want you to bite me, you know that,” I whisper. ”Just the thought of your fangs inside me turns me on. Everything about you is perfect and beautiful, your fangs notwithstanding.”

When I hear Baz gulp, I take his hand and press it against my crotch so he can witness the swelling of my cock first hand.

”Bloody hell…” he curses and palms me through my trousers. I turn my neck and tilt my head, making it impossible for him not to kiss it. He does. Baz trails his lips along my skin and my heart skips a beat.

We almost get carried away again when someone walks close by. 

As soon as the steps die away I suggest, ”You can use a concealment spell.”

Baz clears his throat, ”Right. Show me the damned book first.”

# BAZ

I'm reading fast due to the fact that my boyfriend is currently eagerly breathing down my neck, wishing for me to bite him.

Simon Snow thinks I'm perfect and beautiful and so are my fangs apparently. Crowley, nothing about this situation makes sense.

He doesn’t let me read in peace. Simon’s hands are around my chest as he presses himself into me. I hunched down a bit while reading. Now I am part regretful, part overjoyed over the fact of standing in this manner, since Simon’s cock is poking against my derrière. He’s hard already and well, now, so am I. 

I am getting more flustered by the second. When he starts trailing kisses over my neck and nibbling, I let out a shuddering breath. 

“You could do it here,” he whispers low in my ear and his voice is hoarse from arousal. Simon then continued with his teasing, “I need to feel your fangs in me again.”

For snakes’ sake, how am I to concentrate when he’s doing all that?

Of course, I want to taste Simon’s blood again, and Simon himself. I am simply not used to him seeing my fangs and wishing to feel them ’inside him’ as he so eloquently put it.

As it turns out what we’ve done is called a mating ceremony which is as good as us being married and then some. If the book is correct, then Simon and I are family now, a real one. 

_If the ritual is repeated regularly, the mated human will experience the same good health and healing ability as the mated vampire._

Well, that wasn’t what I thought it to be. This is indeed outstanding news. I could never have assumed that anything good can come out of me biting Simon.

Except as I continue reading on the next page, I see a problem. 

_For the bond to be viable, both parties need to be in love at the time of performing the mating ceremony._

Simon might love me one day. I dare to hope so, only we’re simply not there yet.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” I say, trying to avoid the subject. 

“Why? Let me see,” he says and takes the book from my hands before I can find an excuse not to give it to him.

He reads the next page too and then looks at me, questioning, “I thought you were in love with me too.”

“What?” I ask the same question not for the first time during the last twenty-four hours.

“Penny said you felt the same.”

“The same?” I stutter and can’t even pay any attention to the notion of Bunce having any knowledge about my feelings to Simon.

He looks at me. “I’m in love with you. I thought you felt the same.” Simon’s face falls while he’s trying not to show it.

I could never have hoped for this. Yet I don't have time to overthink or analyse any of it either. I need to soothe Simon’s mind. 

“Crowley, _Simon_. Of course I’m in love with you,” I say and take his hand, ”I’ve been in love with you almost since we met.”

He gifts me with the most beautiful smile. I take the book from his other hand and place it behind us and kiss Simon until neither of us is capable of speaking or breathing.

As the library gets busier, I suggest we relocate.

“Shall we go back to our room?” I ask and feel the blood going to my cheeks and the tips of my ear. “Our room” means something more now. Not due to what we did, although that is a change. It’s more than that. Simon is my boyfriend and he told me he loves me. We’re a family now too courtesy of last night’s ritual.

Simon Snow, the kindest, warmest, brightest person in the entire world, loves me. It’s the kind of miracle I could never have dreamt of, or hoped for.

“Yeah,” he smiles and takes the hamper and my hand, “Let’s go.” 

The first thing Simon does when back in our room is kiss me again. And I want that, his lips on mine. Except I _know_ he needs food. 

Simon is used to starvation and I don’t wish for him to ever miss a meal. That is why despite my whole body screaming at me to continue snogging my exceedingly beautiful boyfriend, I tear my lips from his. 

“What’s for breakfast?” I maneuver the hamper out of his hand and bring it to our bed. (Simon’s bed.) (I will spell the crumbs away afterwards.)

“Cook Pritchard packed sour cherry scones, fried eggs and bacon, and tea too.”

I’m a bit shocked. “She gave you all that?” 

“I told her you were sick and, well, you do need energy,” he admits sheepishly.

I raise my eyebrow at him, “I suppose I do indeed require more energy.” Simon blushes at that and so do I. Our conversations are turning sexual. I ought to be mortified by revealing this much. However, the big secrets are out. Simon knows I’m a vampire and he knows I’m in love with him. 

Against all odds, he is fine with both. More than that. Simon is in love with me too and he wants me to bite him again. It turns him on. Crowley, it arouses me too, if I have to be completely honest. To be inside Simon in any and all ways is what I crave. (I also want to feel him inside of me.)

I want that, I want everything he wants too. I want him to be happy and satisfied in every way. And if my biting him accomplishes just that, then who am I to deny him? 

We finish breakfast and he once again gets a good look at my fangs. Even though my first instinct is to conceal what I am, I let Simon see. I let him in. I don’t want to hide from him, ever.

Simon crawls into my lap and starts kissing my neck and dragging his teeth gently. He isn’t very subtle is he?

“I want you to do it _now_ , darling…,” he murmurs against my neck.

Aleister Crowley, Simon just called me ’darling’ while suggesting that I bite him. He may very well be the death of me. 

I am going to do it, I think. Bite him, that is. Simon wants it and so do I.

There is no reason for self restraint. The book was very clear that it will be beneficial for his health. Any reservations still left are on my part; the part of me that is unsure and scared he’ll reject me for it. Except Simon himself wants this. 

# SIMON

I know Baz is worried. I also know that I was the one to call him a monster for seven years. Some of his insecurities are because of me. I do hope that he sees this for what it is. We are together and we both enjoy it. (His breathing hitches every time I bring up the biting — he likes the idea of doing that as much as I do.)

His face is scrunched up in concentration. Baz is considering it. That’s a good sign.

There’s really nothing that separates us now. I am well aware of what the book said — we’re bonded for life. It’s more than a marriage even. We’re a real family now, Baz and I. 

I have a family. It’s not something I could ever have imagined. I love Baz and I will make sure he always feels comfortable with me.

When we made love yesterday, I felt a bond between us.

Now I know why. From now on, I want to share everything with Baz. 

# BAZ

“This time I could try out those condoms while you’re biting me,” he whispers, giving me a sultry look. Which is, let's be honest, Simon Snow’s everyday look. Everything about him is arousing and I can not fight what we both want.

I want Simon inside me and I want to taste his blood again. My body is screaming for both things.

“I suppose I have no other choice than to agree,” I retort.

“Only if you want to,” he looks smug as he palms my already hard cock.

“I do, _love_ …, ” I admit and kiss him breathless. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 😎


End file.
